


The Beauty of a Beast

by Helthehatter



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Beauty and the Beast, F/M, I mixed up the three stories, and added my own twists, batb 1962, batb 197, batb 1991, poc belle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-30 14:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10165187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helthehatter/pseuds/Helthehatter
Summary: In celebration of the upcoming Disney remake and for one of the most timeless love stories ever told: mixing three different adaptions and adding my own twists. A beautiful and strong-willed girl must pull a prince from a monster, a castle from its curse, she must do the impossible and find a way to love a beast.





	1. Chapter 1

Maurice was, according to any and all facts, a fool.

A fool that once owned a grand fleet of trading ships, a fool that once lived in a grand mansion of a polished uptown city, bathed in jewels and silks.

But one thoughtless decision to send his entire fleet through the Pacific had sent them all into a hurricane. He had lost not only his ships but his sailors, and with it means to support his family.

Punished for his idiocy he and his children were sent tumbling into poverty, forced to sell many of their riches and move to a small wooden house in a small country town. There they took up the work of farmers, growing their own food, sewing their own clothes and tending to the few farm animals they had.

That had been a year ago, today was the anniversary of when Maurice had lost it all and in a desperate attempt to give his children something to make their new life more bearable he decided to go out and trade the few finer garments and knick knacks he had been able to keep.

The desire had sent him on his chestnut mare into a dark forest that chirped and howled with moving shadows and unseen creatures. The mare’s hooves crackling as she walked over fallen leaves, the bare black branches above intertwining around each other, creating a ebony spider web against the night sky.

The mare fondly named Darling was breathing with an edge of anxiety, her black eyes roving over the intimidating forestry, her flanks shivering with each breath.

Maurice stroked her mane, “Easy girl, won’t be much longer now.” He had hoped to make it to the next town across the forest but with storm clouds hovering over his head he decided it would be better to find an inn or some such to spend the night.

But there was no sign of civilization in sight and the rumble of thunder was starting an oppressive duet with the forest’s moans and Darling was getting more and more agitated by the music’s threats.

Maurice flinched with an icy cold raindrop suddenly splattered on his nose, quickly followed by another, and as the seconds ticked by a sprinkle that would soon become a torrent drenched the man and his horse. Darling whinnied in worry and stopped, her hooves clomping uncertainly on the damp dirt that would soon be slippery mud.

“Easy, easy,” Maurice held the reins tightly in his gloved hands, the gray seams stretching against his flexed knuckles. “Steady, steady.” But it was to no avail, a flash of lightning shot down from the sky, stabbing the ground just behind them. Darling let out a scream of terror, the sound overshadowed by a vicious roar of thunder and the horse darted forward. If Maurice hadn’t already had a tight grip on the reins he would’ve fallen off the horse. Knowing there was no way he could calm her with lightning flashing above them and the thunder rumbling its menace Maurice wrapped his arms around Darling’s rain-soaked neck, praying some animal instinct would lead her to a safe location.

Despite the sting of the rain slicing at his gray eyes he watched the dark forest blur past him, muffled by the sheets of rain that turned the ground beneath his mare into mud, her hooves sinking into the brown mess. But then, quite suddenly, the ground beneath Darling gave and the horse was sliding down the embankment, sending Maurice’s stomach into his throat. But by some miracle Darling reached the bottom of the streaming hill without losing her footing, and when the ground was once again solid beneath her hooves she kept running, froth flecking her mouth and eyes still wide and almost hungry for an escape from the raging storm. Maurice kept his head down, whiskered cheek pressed against his horse’s mane as the trees around them inched closer and closer, the branches reaching down to try and claw at his whipping hair, the trunks scraping against his legs and horse’s ribs. He hissed in pain when an exceptionally sharp peace of bark sliced against his leg, ripping through cloth and grazing his skin.

And just when Maurice thought the force of the rain and his horse’s speed would knock him out of his saddle Darling broke out of the trees-and before them stood a castle.

Darling, her exhaustion overriding her fear, came to a clumsy halt at the closed gates. Maurice slid off her saddle, running his fingers over her neck, soaked with both rain and sweat, as he peered up at the sight before him, made hazy by the rain. The gate loomed over him; it would take at least ten men standing on each other’s shoulders to reach the top. It was deep ebony, the iron bars straight and reaching to the sky before they reached the top and arched and curled into intricate patterns, a thick gray wall just as tall as the gate wrapped around the castle, protecting it from intruders. The castle itself was full of spires and towers, reaching up to the storming sky, black windows suggesting that it was abandoned. There was something about it that Maurice found…gloomy, as if the castle itself was sad.

But he needed to get out of this rain; he would have to ignore the knot in his gut that warned him of danger. Instead he pushed at the gate, expecting it to resist but to his surprise it swung open with ease. Maurice slipped himself and Darling into the castle’s territory and closed the gate with a _clink_.

Walking across a cobblestone path Maurice saw that the lawn and plants of the castle’s courtyard were eerily well-kept. Perhaps there _was_ someone living here. And perhaps they would be interested in one of his knick knacks.

He found an empty stable full of hay and left Darling to have a much needed rest. With the excitement of running through the storm having passed Maurice now felt a chill that reached to his bones. Fearing he could catch his death Maurice walked to the double doors that was the castle’s entrance, the wood decorated with the carvings of creatures both real and fantastical. He used the iron knocker that was ice cold from the weather and pounded on the door, the wood thrumming with the force, a moment later one of the doors swung open, no one on the other side. With a chill of suspense icing his spine Maurice finally stepped out of the rain and inside.

He was greeted by an immense hall that led into an oval-shaped first room, smooth stone stairs that led higher into the castle, and large door ways that led into other parts of the castle. The sheer size of this place almost sent Maurice to his knees. Whoever lived here…had Maurice just stepped into the home of a king?

He took in a breath, tasting a hint of dust, and walked across the marble floor that was decorated in gold, green, and red, forming swirling and star shaped patterns. His soggy boats squelching with water with every step he took.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice echoing in the seemingly empty hallways. “Is someone there?”

Unbeknownst to Maurice someone was there, or rather, two someone’s. From the dark of the second floor two pairs of eyes watched the man below with interest, one pair a dazzling emerald green, the other a glinting brown.

The brown eyes glared, “Don’t even think about it.”

The emerald eyes flashed with amusement, “Think about what?”

“Stay away from that man Renard. He’ll leave soon enough.”

Maurice was still calling out, “I don’t mean to disturb. But I became caught in the storm, and need a place to stay for the night.”

The smiling eyes were now concerned. “Come, come Plumes have a heart.”

“The Master will-” Plumes began but his voice trailed off into an indignant hiss as his companion left his side and climbed down the steps to the unwanted guest.

Maurice turned on his heel, looking back to the now closed double doors (he could not recall shutting the door behind him) and considered what to do next. But then suddenly a voice spoke up behind him: “Of course, Monsieur you are welcome!”

He whirled around, his eyes moving to the stairs where he saw…a fox. He started slightly at the creature’s sudden appearance; it sat on the third to bottom step, a well groomed tail resting over its soot black paws and intelligent green eyes watching him. Assuming the fox was domestic Maurice continued to look around for the owner of his welcome. Seeing no one else he turned back to the fox. “Who said that?”

He didn’t expect the fox to answer. “I did.”

Maurice let out a shocked cry of fright, stumbling and falling to the chilly marble floor. He stared with bulging eyes and a slack jaw at the animal that had opened its muzzle to speak clear and coherent words. Seeing the man fall the fox’s ears pulled back in worry, it stood up on its hind legs as if it was a man and reached a paw out like it wanted to help him up. “Are you alright, Monsieur?”

Before Maurice could fully wrap his head around this witchcraft the flutter of wing beats announced the arrival of a great horned owl. It landed next to the fox, its tawny feathers puffed in agitation and its wings still flapping with obvious aggravation. “Now you’ve gone and done it, Renard!”

The fox, Renard, rolled his eyes at the owl’s squawk while Maurice finally pushed himself to his feet, staring at the two animals with wonder and confusion. What kind of enchanted castle was this to have animals that acted like men? But then he sneezed loudly, a shiver coursing over his body and distracted the fox and owl from their arguing. Renard stepped forward and took Maurice’s hand between his paws, the fur warm and pads smooth. He made a noise of sympathy, “You are soaked to the bone, Monsieur. Come; let us warm you by the fire.” He led Maurice to an entertaining room where a roaring fire blazed, medium sized statues of lions decorating the furnace a large arm chair of ruby red standing guard before the flames. Maurice let out a great sigh of relief and pleasure as he sat in the chair, the warmth drying his clothes and reaching to his iced bones.

The fox sat before him, his creamy muzzle curled into a smile while the owl had stayed at the back of the room, muttering under his breath. “If the Master is displeased I will not take the blame.”

Hearing the word ‘Master’ Maurice wanted to ask to see the man but then quite suddenly a rolling cart appeared by his side, it carried a tea set and two cats. One had beautiful and long white fur with blue eyes to match, beside her sat an excited looking kitten, its fur and eyes matching its mother’s.

“Would you like a cup of tea, sir?” the feline’s voice was female and it gave away that she had more age than her appearance let on. “It will chase your chill away.”

“No tea!” The owl known as Plumes flew to perch at the top of the arm chair. “ _No tea_!” But his words were ignored.

“Thank you very much.” Still in wonder he accepted the cup of tea the kitten held between its forepaws, its big blue eyes glittering with unbridled curiosity.

“Chaton, don’t stare,” its mother scolded softly.

The kitten lowered itself and turn its wide eyes to her, “Sorry, Momma.” Chaton had the voice of a little girl.

“Do excuse her we have not had a visitor in…” Chaton’s mother trailed off. “Well, in a long time.”

Maurice nodded in understanding, already he felt at ease around these peculiar creatures. “This castle is not easy to find, I myself only found it by accident. My horse had fallen down a rain-washed hill.”

“Is that how you hurt your leg?” The question came from Renard whose eyes had found the tear in Maurice’s trousers.

“Oh dear!” Chaton’s mother looked at the man’s leg with concern while the small kitten clumsily climbed onto Maurice’s lap to get a closer look.

“It’s just a graze,” he assured him. His leg wasn’t even bleeding and the pain had subsided, he could fix the trousers once he returned home. He smiled when the animals (with the exception of Plumes who still silently glared at him) showed their open relief.

Chaton smiled up at Maurice, still sitting on his lap, when her eyes moved to his neck. “What’s that?”

She reached a small and soft paw to the golden locket that hung from the man’s neck. Maurice smiled and undid the chain to hold the locket in his palm. “One of my most prized possessions.” He opened the golden oval to reveal a folded piece of parchment. With the animals’ wide eyes on him he undid the parchment and showed them a picture, it was a beautiful painting of Maurice’s five children: “My family.”

He pointed to his two sons, dark brown hair curled and faces handsome, “My sons, Tristan and Nicholas.” He pointed to his two eldest daughters, twins of fair hair and skin, “My daughters, Lucy and Susan.”

Chaton’s small paw patted the image of the final girl in the family portrait, “Who is that?” The girl in question was unlike the other four children; her skin was the color of fine chocolate, her hair glossy ebony and eyes shining amber. Maurice’s smile was full of the greatest love and affection. “That is my youngest, Belle. I adopted her when she was just a little girl.” It was back when his fleet was still intact and prosperous. He had just lost his wife who died to give birth to a stillborn child and decided a journey across the seas would be best for him and his children. They had been at a port in Africa when he came across a beautiful young girl who wore nothing but rags but whose eyes and smile shined with a beauty and love that could not be outmatched. Learning from the locals that her mother had passed away the orphan had left on Maurice’s ship, a new daughter who filled the hole his wife and stillborn left behind. This small portrait had been made just before the loss of his ships, his children smiling and eyes sparkling. Only Belle had kept her smile and sparkle when they had lost everything.

“They’re beautiful children,” the silky cat of snow smiled.

“Gorgeous,” Renard agreed. Plumes let out a hoot of annoyance, his head having turned to stare at the empty doorway of the room.

Talk of his children reminded Maurice of why he was here. “You say you have a Master?” He moved to take off the satchel that held the items he intended to trade. “Could I see him? I had hoped-”

“No!” Their four voices rang out in unison, all with an edge of nervousness and even fear.

Renard cleared his throat and shook his head. “Our Master is a…introverted… _person_. He rather keep to himself.”

“I see,” Maurice frowned. “I had hoped to see if had anything he would like to barter for.” He quickly changed the topic when he saw the animals’ worried expressions. “But I won’t disturb him. Could I stay until morning? I will quickly be on my way then.”

“Of course,” Renard smiled but his voice was still strained. “Rest by the fire, enjoy the rest of your tea.”

Plumes spoke up, “Renard, Chat, a word.” He flew out of the room, the fox and cats following after him, with Chaton waving her pink-padded paw in farewell. Maurice could hear the owl speaking as they walked farther and farther away, and when he could no longer hear their voices he stood up. With the introduction of the talking animals his shock and wonderment had burned away any fatigue he had originally had. So, with the storm becoming a mere memory he decided he would check on Darling one last time, making sure she would be safe and comfortable for the night.

Slipping back out the front doors that once again opened and closed on their own accord Maurice walked across the damp grass of the castle’s grounds, the air now thick and fresh with the enhanced scent of the greenery.

But on his way to the stables he spotted something the rain had hidden from him when he first arrived. It appeared to be a small labyrinth of tall hedges, and terrible curiosity came over him to see what was hidden inside. Deciding he could check on his mare afterwards Maurice walked through the labyrinth of deep green hedges, coming across a clearing that formed a circle. Inside the clearing were a series of smaller bushes cut and trimmed to form the shape of fierce animals such as feral cats and bears, he even saw a griffon. They stood as if they were sentries to a large rosebush in the heart of the clearing. Maurice stepped closer, the white roses of the bush reminding him of the stars that now glowed above him. A moment later a thought whispered through his head: _Belle_.

His daughter had always loved roses, the only other thing she favored more was books. If he could bring her one of these flowers, as pure and white as freshly fallen snow, her smile would be worth his travel.

Maurice reached his gloved hand out to the bush and plucked one rose, bringing the white petals to his face, breathing in the fragrant scent. He smiled.

But then all of a sudden he was knocked to the moist ground, a weight pinning him down and a large clawed paw pressing his face into the grass. Maurice let out a gasp of terror, the rose falling away from his trembling fingers.

He saw a flash of razor sharp fangs and then a voice spoke, a voice that sent Maurice back into that forest where wolves stalked and darkness reigned, brought back to him the terror of receiving the news that his ships would not be returning, the terror as he watched the life fade out of his wife’s eyes. It was the worse kind of fear-the helpless kind. “So this is how you repay me for letting you have shelter from the storm? You _steal_ from me?!”

“I-I’m sorry!” Maurice gasped out the words, feeling like his heart would break against his rib cage. Though the pressure that pinned him down did not bruise him the fear would leave marks that lasted for days. Whatever this _monster_ was it was clearly the master of this castle. “I didn’t mean any offense!”

“Words are silent compared to actions,” the creature snarled. “ _Actions_ are so loud they could make one’s ears bleed. And I plan on screaming back.”

The monster’s words confused Maurice until he saw its paw in his vision, it was almost human like, with long fingers that ended in sharp black claws and covered in thick dark fur. He flinched when it grabbed his locket and ripped it off his neck. “No!”

“This is to pay for your shelter,” the master snarled. His voice lowered with a promised threat: “Your _imprisonment_ will pay for the rose.”

Its claws dug into Maurice’s clothes and it started to drag the old man across the grass and toward the castle. The man screamed and cried out, frantically digging his nails into the ground to try and break free. But there was no point, there was no escape.

From one of the many windows of the castle Renard and the others watched the scene below them, their expressions showing the worst kind of fear.

.

Belle sat at the fountain in the heart of town, her amber eyes moving across the pages of her latest book. Behind her Lucy and Susan stood at the window of the town’s only clothing store, mooning over the newest dresses on the other side of the glass.

And, naturally, arguing over who it would look best on.

“That pink would fit my skin tone much better,” Lucy told her sister, running her fingers over her slender, long neck. “You’re too tan.”

Belle didn’t have to look behind her to see her sister’s scowl. It was clear in her voice: “I’m only tanner because _I_ actually do work while you laze around the house!”

“I cook and clean the house!” Lucy shot back.

“How about you clean up after those filthy animals once in a while?”

Belle tuned out their argument for a few minutes before the sound of her name brought her out of her imagination. “Belle, don’t you have anything better to do than read those silly books?”

She let out a soft sigh, using a violet ribbon to mark her place in the ‘silly’ book and closed it. Fair Verona would have to wait.

She looked over her shoulder to meet her sisters’ matching green eyes, “Haven’t _you_ anything better to do than fawn over dresses you can’t afford?”

Lucy pouted, “The difference between a dress and a book is that a dress will get a man’s attention.”

Belle stood up, placing her book in the pocket of her apron and walking over to join her sisters’ side. “Yes, but I’m not _trying_ to get a man’s attention.”

“And that’s your problem my dearest little sister,” Lucy cooed in pity, placing a delicate hand on her cheek. “You think dusty books can satisfy you when only a man can do that.”

Belle had serious doubts over that. Besides it wasn’t like she was against men, perhaps she _would_ be happier if she found that one special person. The only problem being that her ideal soul mate would have to at least _respect_ her love of reading and none of the men in this town did that. On the contrary, both her personality and looks were too different in this town, and the gossip of this place was not quiet. Only one man outside her family showed her any attention and oh how she wished he would jump into a lake.

Speak of the devil a charming and arrogant voice sliced through the air, making her sisters instantly smile but sent a shiver of dread down Belle’s spine.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

Belle turned around to face Gaston, the richest man in town and the best hunter. By looks he could be an angel from heaven, a strong jaw, raven hair pulled back by a crimson ribbon and ice blue eyes. He was beautiful to look at but he made Belle’s skin crawl, he was rude, boorish, and egocentric. He would never be the man for her. But of course-he did not know that.

Gaston tossed his arm across her shoulders and flashed his one hundred watt smile that made Lucy and Susan melt. “Belle,” his voice was shamelessly flirty.

“Gaston,” her tone was polite but icy.

She tensed when the man took her book right out of her apron, removing his arm to leaf through the pages. “How can you read this? There aren’t any pictures.”

“It’s called imagination, Gaston,” Belle pulled her voice through tight teeth.

He gave her a look that was similar to Lucy’s pity but it was even more condescending. “Why read when you could be spending time with _me_?”

 _Why breathe when you could be dead?_ Belle thought viciously but her father raised her to act like a lady. “Was there something else you needed?”

“I thought I could take you-” he glanced absently at her mooning sisters-“And your lovely sisters to the tavern to see my latest kill.”

“Maybe some other time,” Belle tried and took her book back, holding it protectively to her chest. She thought of Juliet Capulet who had supposed to marry a prince and for a moment wondered how she would react to Gaston’s advances. The moment was short-lived as she remembered the rather eccentric Juliet might not be the greatest of role models when Belle planned on living a nice _long_ life. “We have to go home and see if our father has returned.”

Belle had barely slept last night when the storm hit, worry for her father knotting her stomach and sent her pacing around her room. But the storm had not lasted long and she prayed he had found shelter during it.

Gaston frowned but Belle was already linking arms with her sisters and hurrying home, Lucy and Susan’s disappointment palpable. “What is the matter with you?” they both whispered in annoyed unison.

“I’m giving you both my blessing to marry him,” was Belle’s curt reply.

“We would if we could,” Susan moaned with what would’ve been heartbreak if she had felt more than lust.

.

After Belle had departed with her sisters Gaston was greeted by his lackey LeFou, the smaller, fuller man gave a twinge of sympathy. “Didn’t give you the time of day did she?”

Gaston lightly smacked his large hand over LeFou’s head, not moving his eyes from the path the three ladies had taken. “She needed to see if that sorry excuse of a father had returned. I wouldn’t deny the dear girl that.”

LeFou scrunched up his comically large nose, “I don’t know, Gaston. You could have any girl in town. Why _her_?” LeFou’s dislike of the girl was obvious, not fond of Belle’s disinterest in Gaston and her… _differences_.

Gaston let out an exasperated groan that hinted they had had this conversation before. His eyes found his loyal shadow. “LeFou what did I tell you the moment after I first met her?”

“That she’s gorgeous,” LeFou answered obediently.

Gaston nodded like a patient professor repeating a lesson. He pointed his finger at the smaller man, “And what does that make her?”

Having this conversation repeated almost weekly LeFou knew the answer: “The best.”

Gaston pointed to himself, “And what do I deserve?”

LeFou sighed; his round slouchy shoulders sinking, “The best.”

“Good LeFou,” Gaston patted his head as if he was a dog that learned to sit on command. The taller man straightened to his impressive height and sent his dazzling smile after Belle who had long since vanished. “Ever since I met her I knew I must marry her. The most beautiful girl in town with the most handsome man in town-no, the earth, we are destined to be.” He turned his smile down to his follower, “People will love it, a rich gentleman saving the poor damsel from the depths of poverty. Hunting for her, giving her only the finest dresses, who could resist? Certainly not her.”

LeFou had a rare moment of wisdom and remained silent. He instead watched Gaston’s blue eyes crinkle, thoughts making the gears in his head turn. “I just need to give her a little nudge in the right direction.” The grin that slowly spread across his lips could make the Cheshire cat jealous. “And I have the _perfect_ little nudge.”

.

The girls returned to find their brothers in the room that served as both their dinning and living room.

Tristan, the eldest, resembled their father with a thin beard matching his curled brown hair. He was tending to the fading embers of the fire place while Nicholas sat at the table, making lures for fishing.

“Hi,” he greeted his sisters with his trademark sweet smile. His green eyes were bright and inviting, his brown hair curled like his brother’s and his face friendly.

Tristan turned at his brother’s voice, sending a sour glare at the three girls. “Enjoy wasting time in town?”

The five words sent Lucy and Susan into indignant spluttering. But Belle ignored Tristan, looking around the room that only her brothers occupied. Dismay weighed on her brother, making her shoulders sink.

She sat down next to Nicholas. “Papa hasn’t made it back yet?”

Nicholas’ smile was pulled down. “No, not yet… But Belle, he said it would take him a whole day to get to the next town. He probably only arrived this morning.”

Belle’s eyes fell down to her interlocked fingers, his words doing little to ease her anxiety.

Nicholas placed his hand over hers and Belle smiled at him, gratitude in her eyes. While she wouldn’t say it aloud Nicholas was her favorite sibling. He had warmed up to her instantly when Maurice adopted her and the two had always been close. And unlike the others Nicholas was at least _trying_ to make the most of their new life.

Lucy suddenly sat across from her younger siblings and cast an acerbic look at Tristan. “So what will we be having for lunch?”

He almost bared his teeth at his younger sister, “Whatever you bother to cook.”

Lucy rudely rolled her eyes, “If I do it’ll be better than whatever grizzle _you’d_ whip up.”

Susan, who had been making her way to the stairs that led to their rooms, came to a halt and glared at her twin. “ _That_ would require you actually dirtying your hands.”

Belle stood up before another word could be said, “Stop.” She looked beseechingly at the gray and green gazes that now watched her. “How can you argue like this when Papa hasn’t returned? Aren’t you worried for him?”

Tristan stood up and rubbed his palms across his trousers, staining them with soot. “We _are_ worried, Belle. But what do you expect us to do? We have to watch the house and he _wanted_ to go.”

 _Only to appease us_ , Belle thought with guilt. _He blames himself for us living here. And now he could be…_

Belle knew Nicholas could be right; Maurice could’ve reached his destination safely. He could be coming home with gifts a plenty. But there was an instinct inside her that wouldn’t unknot her insides, wouldn’t let her pulse slow to a normal pace.

And then there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it.” Susan held up her skirts and walked to the door, pressing her eye to the peep hole. A second later she whirled around, skirt flying and expression excited. “It’s Gaston!”

“ _Hide_ ,” Belle replied immediately.

Nicholas stood up to stand at her side, “What does _he_ want?”

“To see our baby sister,” Lucy was just as excited as her twin.

Belle moaned in trepidation, “But I don’t want to see him!”

“Too bad,” Tristan placed his hands on her shoulders. “He’s the richest man in town and you’re going to be nice to him.”

Belle was pushed to the door and before she could even blink her siblings ran up the stairs to hide but also eavesdrop. “Traitors,” she muttered under her breath. Steeling herself Belle finally opened the door.

And sure enough there was Gaston in all his primeval glory, leaning against the door frame and smile already in place.

“Gaston,” Belle’s smile was strained and unconvincing, “What a…pleasant…surprise.”

“Naturally,” Gaston slipped around her, inviting himself inside.

Belle stayed by the open door. “Did-did you need something?”

Gaston made himself comfortable in Maurice’s chair at the head of the table. Watching him place his mud-caked boots on the table rubbed her nerves raw. He leaned his head back to show off his impressive Adam’s apple, “I’ve come to make your dreams come true, Belle.”

Her dark brow furrowed, “To do that you have to know my dreams.”

“I do!” Gaston lifted his head. “You don’t act like it but you want what all women hope and scheme for: to be a wife.”

Belle’s heart dropped and she was surprised her expression remained placid. _Oh no. No, no, no, no_.

There was a sharp gasp from upstairs and muffled movement, whichever twin just gasped had quickly been muzzled by a hand.

“Gaston,” Belle’s voice choked. “I don’t think-”

But he was already up on his feet, reaching her side to wrap his arm around her waist. “Picture this”-he extended his free arm out to indicate to a future that would never happen-“Us in a rustic hunting lodge, much bigger than this sack.”

_This he-man is inconceivable!_

“My latest kill roasting over the fire.” His expression was nothing but smug arrogance.

 _Also unbelievable,_ Belle’s thought was as dry as a desert.

Gaston’s smile nearly blinded her as he turned his head down to look at her, “And my little wife massaging my feet while the little ones play on the floor with the dogs.” His lips pouted in thought, “I think we’d have six or seven.”

“Dogs?”

Gaston’s laugh was booming. “No, Belle!” He ran a hand over his finely groomed hair, “Six or seven Gaston Juniors.”

 _I am_ not _hearing this!_ “Imagine that.”

Gaston pulled her closer, Belle pulling her head back to keep some distance. The last time she was this nauseous she was seven years old and sea sick.

“We’ll be a perfect pair,” he purred, actually _purred_. “Just like my thighs.”

Nicholas’ sudden burst of laughter from upstairs made Gaston look up, his grip on her loosening, Belle took the chance to escape his arm.

“Sorry, Gaston,” Belle flashed her own white teeth, placing her hands on his broad chest. “I just don’t deserve you.” When he opened his mouth to reply she gave a hefty push, sending him out of the door. “But thanks for asking!” She slammed the door and turned the lock with a noise of exasperation and disgust.

.

Not surprising, Tristan and the twins were furious with Belle for rejecting the richest man in town. Going on and on about how accepting his “proposal” would’ve brought them back to the comfy life they had once known. Belle sat silently and let them ramble on until they finished their rant by grounding her. Indulging them Belle made her way up the stairs as they proclaimed they would be going back to town to try and win Gaston’s favor. Those words made her stop halfway up the creaking steps and watched the three leave the house.

Nicholas, leaning against the table, gave her a sympathetic smile, “Don’t let them bother you. You know what they’re like.”

“But they might try to bring Gaston back,” Belle wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold. “Nicholas they might try to _force_ me to marry him.”

Her brother’s eyes narrowed and he moved into a protective stance, “They can’t _force_ you to do anything.”

But they could certainly try; there was only one person who could order them to stop. “I have to bring Papa back.”

Dusk was falling over them as Belle and Nicholas made their way to the family’s barn, Tristan, Lucy, and Susan still in town.

“Why not let me go?” Nicholas asked of her, worry making his voice strained. “Or at least wait until morning.”

“No.” The fact it was already evening with no sign of their father did nothing to calm her anxiety. “They might bring him over tonight, no it’s better I go alone. I’m smaller, Philippe can move faster with just me.”

In the barn the large brown horse looked as on edge as Belle felt, which was understandable, he missed Darling. She stroked the horse’s large nose, “Hi, boy. Think you can help me find my father and your sweetheart?”

Philippe whinnied.

“Just be _careful_ , Belle,” Nicholas begged of her as they saddled the horse. “Don’t stay out all night, if you can’t find father right away come home or find a place to sleep for the night.”

“I know.” Belle crawled onto the horse’s shadow, now towering over his brother. “Don’t worry so much, Nicholas. You and I both know I’m tougher than I look. I’ll bring father home and he can pull Tristan’s and the girls’ heads from the clouds.” _And maybe even give Gaston a swift kick in his trousers_.

But Nicholas still looked up at his sister with such worry that her heart melted for him. She leaned down and kissed his temple, “I promise I’ll be fine. I’ll bring father home and everything will be just fine.”

Straightening in the saddle she let Nicholas lead Philippe out of the barn, when the country side and forest stood before her Belle whipped the reins against Philippe’s broad neck and the horse immediately galloped. In only a few moments the two were swallowed by the shadows of the forest, leaving Nicholas staring after them with a horrid sense of fright crushing his throat.

.

“How is the Master?”

The question came from Chat, she and Plumes sitting in the room Maurice had been invited to, the fire now only a few embers.

Renard shrugged as he walked in, “I didn’t ask.”

Plumes huffed, “Of course you didn’t. Why not?”

The fox sat down and lifted his muzzle to the ceiling. “You know that locket the man brought?”

“He’s been asking for it,” Chat said sadly. She had made a point in visiting the guest turned prisoner.

“The Master has been staring at the picture inside it,” Renard went on, his voice contemplative. “I don’t think he even knew I was there.”

“Oh!” Chat started suddenly, her blue eyes having found the room’s grandfather clock. “I best find Chaton; it’s time for her bath.” She quickly padded out of the room, leaving Renard and Plumes alone.

The fox watched her go, letting out a sigh when she disappeared. “You know…if only one of the man’s daughters had come instead-”

Plumes’ angry hoot interrupted his musings. “Don’t start! That man shouldn’t have come at all! I warned you but did you listen? Of course not! You never do!”

Renard rolled his eyes as his friend continued to bluster his outrage, Renard’s mind going back to his Master in the west wing, staring with something similar to fascination at a smiling, happy family that was such a foreign concept to the castle. Renard could also recall seeing his master trace a claw over the daughter known as Belle.

.

Thanks to the mud that was left from the storm Belle had come across hoof tracks. She urged Philippe to pick up his pace, hoping to find where the tracks led before it got darker. But Philippe suddenly jolted, almost falling down a hidden hill, the horse took a few steps back with an uncertain neigh.

Belle narrowed her eyes; the tracks reached this hill that was covered with mounds of dried mud. But she could just see through the dark to the ground below and make out more horse tracks. Belle swallowed, sliding off Philippe’s saddle and holding his reins tight she led him down the steep hill. The process was slow, Belle barely breathing as her feet sank with each step, body braced for the hill to give. Philippe was faring no better, his body trembling as he loyally but reluctantly followed her, his ears pulled back and eyes like saucers of white.

Belle had almost reached the bottom of the hill when the mud gave; yelping Belle forced her legs to move. She clumsily ran down to the bottom of the hill, Philippe was pulled after her, nearly knocking her down when he reached the bottom.

Once again steady on their feet Belle leaned against Philippe’s shoulder, caressing his muzzle. “Let’s try to find a different route on the way back, yes?” He snorted in agreement.

Belle looked to the ground to see the tracks led into an even thicker crop of trees, instead of climbing back onto the horse’s back she led him through the makeshift path. Dark branches arched toward the two which did nothing to calm her nerves, flinching when brambles tugged at her skirts.

But it was not long before the forest broke away and she stood before a castle. Belle’s jaw dropped at such a magnificent yet ominous sight, and something inside of her screamed to go in. This was where she needed to be.

Surprised that the gates were not locked she and Philippe stepped into the grand courtyard that looked so different from the forests beyond the wall, the grass thick and trees flourishing, it was beautiful despite the looming shadow the castle cast over it. Philippe sniffed the air and all of a sudden whinnied with excitement and ran past Belle, making her lose her grip on his reins. She quickly followed the racing horse to a large stable almost the size of their barn at home. When she stepped inside she broke into a smile, Philippe had found Darling.

The mare looked perfectly fine, Belle noticed with relief as she watched the two horses nuzzle each other with open affection.

“Papa must be inside the castle,” she breathed to herself. Leaving the horses to themselves she turned and headed to the front doors of the castle, heart thrumming in an odd mixture of excitement and anticipation.

.

Plumes was still trying to make Renard’s ears bleed with his insistent squawks of disapproval. The fox would’ve left long ago but knew the owl would only follow after him, so instead he prayed for a distraction great enough to render Plumes silent. His prayer was answered with one word: “Hello?”

The one word, spoken in an undeniably feminine voice had Plumes shutting his beak and Renard’s tail bristling. They gave each other one look before scurrying to the door way of the room, peeking their heads out just in time to see a figure standing before the stairs that led up into the towers of the castle. The figure’s back was to them, wrapped in a deep gray cloak with long black hair draped over slender shoulders.

Renard breathed out a whisper of awe and nudged his companion. “It’s a girl.”

The nudge having nearly sent Plumes to the floor the owl glared at the fox, “Yes, I’m not blind I can see-”

But Renard had turned to him, grabbing the owl by his wings and shaking him as he spoke: “Don’t you see? It’s who we’ve been waiting for! _The one to break the curse_!”

“Hello?” the girl called out once more, making her way up the steps. “Papa?” Renard released Plumes who had gotten dizzy from the shaking and followed after her, a smile pulling up his black lips and making his sharp teeth flash. She had reached the second floor when Renard called out, still climbing up to her: “Bonjour!”

The girl let out a soft shriek and whirled around, large amber eyes finding him and her expression one of shaken disbelief.

“Sorry to frighten you,” Renard apologized. His eyes ran over her, taking in her dark skin and shiny hair and recognized her as the girl in the photo. The one his Master had taken an interest in…

“I’m dreaming.” Her words came out as a soft breath. “I fell down that hill, hit my head, and now am dreaming about talking foxes.”

Plumes then chose to land next to Renard, giving him a sharp stab with his beak. “Ow!” Renard barked, rubbing his shoulder.

“Haven’t you caused enough problems talking to complete strangers?” Plumes demanded.

“And owls…” Belle added.

“Look at her.” Renard indicated a dark as pitch paw to the girl. “This is clearly Belle.”

She blinked, “How-how do you know my name?”

“Your father is here,” he was quick to answer.

“Papa!” Her face was one of love and relief. “Where is he?”

“Oh-well…” Renard trailed off. He had not thought that far ahead. Plumes gave him an expectant look.

Seeing his hesitation Belle stepped forward, reaching a hand out to take his paw and giving him a pleading look. “Please tell me. I need him back.”

“He’s um…” Renard braced himself. “He’s locked up in one of our towers.”

As expected Belle immediately dropped his hand and took a few steps back, her face now twisted into fear and anger. “ _What_?”

“It’s all a misunderstanding!” Renard quickly tried to appease her.

Her next words were a firm order: “Take me to him.”

Belle still felt like she was in some mad dream as she followed the fox and owl up several flights of stairs. If she _was_ dreaming her imagination was even more vivid than she had thought. The marble floors were bedecked with elaborate patterns that wound and winded across the smooth cold floor. The walls decorated with coats of armor, marble statues of creatures from lions to wolves to even griffons and unicorns. And hanging above her head were chandeliers of all different sizes, the glass glinting with the moon light shining from the windows.

But finally the two talking animals stopped at a foreboding wooden door, pushing it open Belle looked into a dim and dusty room that made her swallow. But then Maurice’s voice came through the darkness: “Who is there?”

“ _Papa_!” Belle dashed in without another thought, leaving the fox and owl at the doorway. Her heart clenched when she saw her father behind a set of bars, shivering in the cold and skin pale. Belle fell to her knees before the cell and Maurice’s eyes nearly fell out of his head.

“Belle?!” He reached his shivering hands through the rusting metal bars and Belle quickly snatched them between her own, her heart breaking when she felt his flesh that was cold as ice. A protective fury tightened her grip around his fingers.

“How did you find me?” he asked but then shook his head, “Never mind, you have to go. You have to get out of here!”

“Who’s done this to you!?”

“Belle listen I made a grave mistake!” Maurice was shaking, his eyes moving past her shoulder. “You have to get out of here before it’s too late! You can’t let it find you here!”

Belle scowled, “ _It_?”

The word had just left her lips when the room grew darker; Belle turned around, moving herself in front of her father. A large figure was blocking the light of the hallway, its figure made of shadow. The shadow spoke: “Who are you?”

Belle shuddered, the voice like icy water thrown over her skin. But she furrowed her brow and forced herself onto shaking legs. “Who are _you_?”

The fox and owl, standing behind the form, blinked at her their expressions startled yet impressed by her boldness. But then the shape in front of them growled and they lowered themselves closer to the floor: “I’m the Master of this castle.” He stepped forward and vanished into one of the shadowy corners of the room, but Belle saw two orbs of twilight blue fixed on her, two orbs that kept away from the square of moonlight shining from the single window of the room.

She straightened her spine and forced herself to meet the eyes face on. “I’m here for you to release my father.”

There was a flash of white that was accompanied by a snarling laugh, “Does the outside world now have no punishment for theft?”

“ _Theft_?” Belle echoed in disbelief. She heard heavy footsteps as the creature stepped closer and Belle wrapped her fingers around the bars of the cell, keeping her from moving away.

“I forgave him for trespassing into my castle and how does he repay the shelter I gave him? He steals one of my roses.”

Belle spluttered in disbelief. “Are you insane? My father is sick! He could die in here! And you’re keeping him prisoner because he took a rose!?”

The stranger rendered her silent with a vicious growl that made her flinch and press her back against the bars. What kind of man made such inhuman noises? What kind of man did her father call ‘ _it_ ’?

“Sick or not he is my prisoner!” the shadows growled. “I will not let his crime go unpunished!”

Belle scowled in disgust as her father spoke up, his chilly hand falling over hers. “Just go, Belle. _Please_.”

“Listen to your father,” the ‘it’ advised, twilight eyes turning away from her, dismissing her. “Leave.”

“What if you take me instead?”

The question sent the entire room into stillness. Belle swallowed, the offer had fallen off her lips before she could decide if she wanted to make it or not. But now that she had she knew in her heart that it was-if not the right thing to do-the _Belle_ thing to do.

“ _What_?” the once snarling voice had gone soft into a disbelief that actually sounded vulnerable. “You…you want to take his place?”

“ _No, Belle_!” Maurice’s voice cracked with desperation.

She disregarded her father’s pleas. “Would you let him go?”

“I would.” The points of twilight moved as he nodded. “But understand if you take his place you have to stay here, there is no going back. You _will_ live here for the rest of your life.”

Belle took in a breath, for a moment wondering if this was punishment for rejecting Gaston. But in the end it didn’t matter. No matter if she was eager to return home or dreading to-she would not leave her father to die cold and alone.

“Belle, _please_!” her father continued to beg. “You don’t know what that _thing_ is!”

Another spark of white, “Your father makes a good point.”

Belle’s brow furrowed. “Then what are you?”

The twilight slowly blinked and then moved forward, stepping into the patch of moonlight that shone on the floor. The first thing Belle saw were paws instead of feet, long, beast like, covered in stormy dark gray fur and ending in curled black claws. Her eyes moved up to see ripped leather trousers and white shirt, hands that were more animal-like than human and a black cape over broad shoulders. And then she reached the stranger’s face: it too was covered in thick dark fur with dots of white standing out like snow flakes. He had a long elongated snout, two sharp canines curling out of his top lip, triangular ears folded back against his skull. It was like Belle was standing before a creature that was more wolf than man.

She choked out a frightened gasp, her knees giving and making her slid to the floor. Maurice grabbed her shoulders: “Belle listen, I’ve lived my life. Go back to your brothers and sisters.”

The creature…the _beast_ …watched her with dismissive eyes. He expected her to run… But if she did Maurice would die. She looked over her shoulder and met her beloved father’s frightened eyes. “Goodbye, Papa.”

Belle forced herself back onto her feet, gently pulling herself away from Maurice’s grasping hands and stepped into the lunar glow. She looked up at the tall creature, “I-I will take his place. I’ll stay with you…forever… You have my word.”

If he was surprised by her agreement he did not show it, instead he growled a soft “done” and walked around her to unlock Maurice’s cell. Belle held her clenched, shaking fists to her side. She kept her eyes ahead as the beast dragged her father past her (“No, please. She’s just a girl she doesn’t know what she’s saying!”) and out of the room. Once he and her captor had vanished Belle released a broken sob and fell down to the floor, hiding her face in her hands as she tried to hold back the terror that wanted to drown her in her own tears.

Renard and Plumes watched her with sympathy for a moment before turning to follow their master, ready to tell the rest of the castle they had a new, and permanent, guest.


	2. Part 2

In the kitchen Chat was getting a wash bin of soapy warm water ready for her kitten’s bath when said Chaton scurried into the room. “Mommy! Mommy!”

Chat was startled. “What’s wrong, dear?”

“There’s a girl in the castle!”

Chat huffed in annoyance and jumped down to stand before her child with a disapproving glare. “Now, Chaton, I won’t have you making up stories like that.”

Chaton pouted, “But I swear, Mommy!”

“That’s enough.” Chat nudged her daughter to the wash bin, “Now it’s time for your bath.” She had just placed her kitten in the soapy water when a rabbit, fluffy with white and silvery gray fur hopped in, her eyes ecstatic.

“Mrs. Chat!” she cooed in exhilaration. “I saw a girl in the castle!”

Chaton poked her head out of the water and gave her mother a smug look. “See? I told you.”

The three animals’ ears perked into the air when they heard the sounds of a struggle, followed by the sounds of pleas, before the three girls could decide if they should investigate Renard and Plumes rushed in, the fox nearly knocking into them as he skidded to a halt. “Chat! Chaton!”-he broke into a large smile when he saw the rabbit-“Lapin! Good you’re all here.”

“What’s going on?” Chat asked, gently pushing her daughter back into the water when Chaton tried to climb out of the bath.

Plumes answered, “The Master is letting that man go. His daughter came-she took his place.”

Chat’s and Lapin’s eyes widened, sharing a look of surprise and even hope, the rabbit turned back to Renard and Plumes, “Could…could she be the one?”

“Maybe,” Renard replied before leading the adults out of the room, Chat giving her daughter strict orders to finish her bath before following the others. They arrived in the front room just as their master returned from outside, Maurice no where in sight.

“Where did-” Plumes began but then slammed his beak shut under his master’s irritated gaze.

“The carriage is taking him back where he belongs,” was the growled reply. He turned abruptly and made his way toward the stairs, fur bristled in agitation. So much for Belle’s agreement easing his temper.

Chat, Plumes, and Lap pushed Renard forward, silently voting him the one to speak for the staff. Renard sent them a glare before stepping forward and clearing his throat, “Uh-M-Master?”

The wolf-like creature stopped abruptly and turned to glare at the fox, a storm standing before them, rumbling thunder and ready to strike like lighting. Renard tried to smile and held up his paws, “Uh, since-since the lady will be staying with us maybe we could find her a better place to sleep?”

The master let out a ferocious snarl, sending Plumes and the others hiding behind Renard whose smile stayed in place but eyes wide in fright, “Then again maybe not.”

.

Belle had been taking calming breaths when she felt a gaze on her. She gritted her teeth but didn’t look up. “Can I help you, _Beast_?”

She heard a flinch in his voice, “Get up. I’m going to show you to your room.”

Those words made her lift her head, still unnerved by the sight of her subjugator, “My room?”

The Beast, as she decided to dub him, looked around the room with a droll expression. “If you like to stay in a cell it is your choice. But I for one would prefer an actual bed in an actual room.”

She frowned and pushed herself back to her feet. “Alright, take me to my new room.” The Beast curled his lip at her sarcastic tone and abruptly turned on his heel, cape flowing with the movement.

Belle marched after him into the hallway, back straight and chin high. The fox had been waiting for the two, offering Belle a smile when she emerged. She ignored him, not sure what to think of her new home’s inhabitants. They seemed friendly enough but they also didn’t feel the need to warn her of their master. So she walked in silence, the Beast and fox leading the way. The bright red canine gave his master a look she couldn’t read. But in her defense she never tried to read a fox’s expression.

But it would appear the wolfish beast could. Breathing loudly through his nose he glanced over his shoulder and met her eyes. Belle noted that the white flecks of his gray fur were mainly across his muzzle and around his eyes, making his dark blue eyes pop. And, she also noted, that he was no longer scowling, now he looked-dare she say it-uncomfortable.

“I…I hope you’ll like it here.”

Belle broke eye contact, moving her gaze to columns that protruded from the wall, paintings of vines decorating the copper colored walls. From the corner of her vision she saw the Beast’s ears fold back, but still he continued to speak: “This castle is your home now as well. Which means the many rooms, the gardens, it all belongs to go and you can go wherever you like.” He added as if an afterthought, “ _Except_ the west wing.”

Belle’s curiosity was instantly piqued; she snapped her head back to him, “Why can’t I?” The Beast bared his fangs back at her, his scowl returning, “Because it is forbidden.” The growl of his words dissuaded Belle from asking any more. But it didn’t wane her interest of this west wing in the slightest.

The Beast and the fox who had remained silent through the short conversation stopped before a large wooden door, Belle took a moment to admire the craftsmanship of it, leaves and vines carved into it to form a pleasing picture.

The Beast extended his monstrous paw to open the door for her and Belle stepped past him without a word, slightly surprised by how nice the room truly was. Behind her she could hear the fox (she really needed to ask his name) whisper: “Invite her to dinner.”

Belle turned around to say she had no interest but the Beast was already speaking, his voice still the snarl that was apparently his natural voice. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He slammed the door shut, rattling the hinges.

Belle flinched and released one more shuddering breath before turning around to admire the room. She couldn’t deny it was nice, a soft gray carpet, a four poster bed complete with silken crimson blankets and curtains, there was also a desk, a medium sized fireplace, and a small balcony beyond a pane of glass that was as large as the door behind her. It almost reminded Belle of her original home when Maurice still had his fleet, with the exception that instead of a closet or wardrobe there was a giant full body mirror standing near the bed.

Needing fresh air Belle walked to her small balcony, leaning her elbows against the stone rail and breathing in the crisp night air. Thanks to the moon’s glow she could make out the greenery of the castle’s gardens, surprising that just outside the walls the forest was dark and empty. She spotted Philippe and Darling having a late night grazing and felt a small sense of relief, at least she had them.

“So…” she breathed to herself. “This is home.” _No…this would never be her home. Her home was far away, with her family_. She let out a breath of cold air, unable to decide if it was more in frustration or grief. But then a voice spoke behind her: “Surely it won’t be that bad.”

Belle shrieked in surprise and whirled around, eyes finding the great horned owl, now perched on her bed. She glared as she stepped inside, “It is just a tradition for this castle to greet people by scaring the daylights out of them?”

The owl blinked in apology. “I am sorry. My name is Plumes, I was sent fetch you for dinner.”

Belle hadn’t realized so much time had passed while she was out in the balcony. She looked from Plumes to her dress, tattered with dirt and dust and wrinkled her nose. “Does your master expect me to go without proper attire?” She was sure the giant wolf wouldn’t bother freshening up but she was raised better than that.

Plumes was looking at her with confusion, “Without proper attire? What do you-Oh!” His large eyes blinked with comprehension, “You have not used the mirror.”

Belle’s brow furrowed but she walked forward to stand before her reflection, wincing at her unkempt appearance. “You need to spin once,” Plumes ordered.

“ _Why_?”

“Just do it, you’ll understand quickly enough.”

Resisting a rolling of her eyes Belle obeyed, turning a full circle only to reface the mirror and let out a gasp-she was in a completely different scene. Suddenly her reflection wore a completely different dress, a design similar to the ones of the nobles she once rubbed elbows with, its cloth green with the design of golden leaves giving it character. Even her hair that had originally fell down her shoulders in messy waves was now brushed and lifted atop her head, the bun held by golden pins. She stared at Plumes and the owl’s eyes flashed with affection, “That is a very... _special_ mirror. Spin again."

Belle happily obeyed this time, twirling so fast her skirts flew until she was once again facing her mirror. This time the dress of golden and cream, with bows and ruffles that gave her a more fanciful air, even her hair was pulled back into a comically large bow. She pouted her lips and gazed at her reflection with a critical eye, “This one really isn’t me…”

“Then spin again,” Plumes replied easily.

Belle did so and this time she knew she had found the right one. An eggshell blue, a small ribbon resting under her collarbone, the sleeves stopping at her elbows with white ruffles that spread out like wings, her hair was now decorated with a couple of blue artificial flowers, the ebony locks brushed to perfection and framing her face and draped over her shoulder. She giggled at the irony; both Susan and Lucy would kill to have such a mirror. “I like this one.”

Plumes nodded, “Excellent. Now, let us go, the Master waits.”

Belle’s smile instantly fell. Her pleasure from the dresses had not only been short lived but was murdered with impressive speed.

.

It felt like ants were crawling through his fur. He had wrapped his arms around himself, his claws digging into his skin in an attempt to keep himself in one place. But that didn’t stop his pacing, back and forth, back and forth, the fire place throwing flickering shadows across his large body.

He ground his teeth so hard he expected the fangs to shatter. Where is she? _Where is she_? His pacing stopped abruptly and he turned on his servants. “Where is she!?”

Renard and Chat sat at the dinning table, a long rectangle decorated with lavish food and flowers. Renard had even insisted on a small swan of ice in the middle of the table (no one mentioned it was starting to drip). Said fox was sitting in one of the table’s chairs, Chat sitting atop the table and rearranging a vase of bellflowers.

The snowy feline turned her eyes to him, “Be patient, Master. She’s lost her father and freedom all in one day. You can’t expect her to rush downstairs.”

He felt a low growl rumble in his throat before continuing to pace. Renard’s eyes followed him for a few steps before he spoke up, “Master, do you think this is the girl who will break the curse?”

He didn’t answer at first, eyes on the floor. He let out a breath that came out as a shudder. “I don’t know.”

But Renard apparently didn’t need any reassurance. “This is exactly what we’ve been waiting for.” Smiling he reached out and plucked a pair of bellflowers, holding one in each paw. He lifted one in the air, “You fall in love with her-”he held up the other paw-“She falls in love with you.” He pressed the flowers together before letting them fall to the table as he spoke: “Boom! The curse will be lifted by midnight!”

Chat frowned at the fox, picking up the fallen flowers. “It’s not that simple Renard, these things take time.”

He returned her frown, “But the…” he let his mouth close, not wanting to finish the sentence.

But the Beast finished the words: _The rose was already starting to wilt_. He knew that better than anyone, spending days on end staring at the enchanted flower. And was there when the first petal fell, his heart dropping with the petal, and then…this _girl_ showed up, the same girl from the picture, breathing and with eyes glowing like fire and so _there_.

She had been-was- _is_ so…

“She’s beautiful.” The Beast’s pacing ceased, his feet weighed down by the heart that never returned to his chest. His eyes found his servants again. “How could she fall in love with something like _me_?”

Chat and Renard exchanged glances before the cat smiled up at him, “You just have to make her see past how you look.”

He indicated to his wolfish- _monstrous_ body, “ _How_?”

Renard was quick to give advice, “You could groom that scruffy fur.”

The Beast immediately ran his claws through the fur atop his skull, trying to calm the messy tangles.

“Don’t slouch either,” Chat added.

Renard nodded in agreement, “Yes! Yes, show her how tall you are! Ladies love tall gentlemen!”

 _But I’m not a gentleman_ , he thought sourly. He was already taller than her; she would be even more intimidated by his full height. Renard was still talking, “They also love charming, debonair smiles.” He looked at his master expectantly, the Beast bared his fangs in a smile and by the flinch it received it was neither dashing nor debonair.

“Don’t frighten the girl,” Chat reminded.

“Impress her with your rapier wit,” Renard added.

“But be gentle.”

“Shower her with compliments!”

“But also be sincere.”

”And above all-” Renard and Chat rose to their feet in emphasis, “You must learn to _control your temper_!”

The Beast was still trying to keep all their points in mind when the door creaked open with obvious caution. Plumes poked his horned head in looking this way and that before he spotted them. “Is everything ready?”

When Chat nodded the owl pushed the door all the way open, revealing Belle who stood on the other side, adorning a blue evening dress.

The Beast’s breath caught.

“Good evening, my dear,” Chat greeted warmly.

Belle blinked at her, her expression mildly surprised. She muttered something that sounded like “And now talking cats”. Her amber eyes moved to the Beast and he lifted his chin, trying to exude the word ‘gentlemanly’. “Good evening.”

She nodded her face unreadable.

Plumes cleared his throat and the Beast quickly added: “Please, sit down. Eat.”

Belle obeyed, eyeing the fine platters of vegetables, fruits, cheeses, and meats. “This all looks delicious.”

“You can have as much as you like,” he spoke with enthusiasm. She looked up at him and every time it felt like a kick to his gut.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

He shook his head, “I’m not hungry.” His insides were so knotted up he was surprised he could swallow air. But his words made her brow furrow, instant distrust and anger oozed off her body. She looked at the platters of food with disgust, “I see.”

His ears folded back, “What’s wrong?”

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, catching the beginnings of a growl in their master’s voice. Belle was looking over the appetizers coolly. “Tell me, _Beast_ , which of these plates do you prefer?”

He forced his fur to lie flat at her tone. “ _Why_?”

She scowled at him, “If you plan on fattening me up I could at least taste like your favorite dish.”

“ ** _What_**?!”

Plumes tried to fix the situation. “You-you’ve misunderstood, my lady. The Master only wishes you well.”

Belled arched a thin brow, “And does he also wishes me to be washed down the red wine? Maybe the white?”

The Beast’s snarl rattled the glasses on the table. His servants ducked under said table, but Belle’s spine was straight and eyes firm as he stomped across the room to stand before her, teeth bared and eyes blazing. “So,” his voice dripped with barely held fury, “You think I plan on tearing the flesh off your bones?”

“Do you?”

“You tempt me.”

Renard’s frantic whisper came from under the table. “Master, that’s not the way to win her favor!”

“Be a gentleman!” Plumes begged.

 _Gentleman_ , his mind scoffed. He was sick of the word. “I do not make a habit of eating my guests.”

“Of course not,” her smile held not one trace of light-heartedness. “You’re the kind to imprison sickly old men.”

He finally made her jump when he knocked the dishes to the floor, metal clanging and food splattering on the stone floor. “I’m also the kind to leave a mess!” he snapped. Belle rose to her feet, her expression calm but breast fluttering. “If I’m not your next meal then what do you want from me?”

Despite the red haze turning the world bloody he still had enough sense to glue his lips shut. If he opened his muzzle his anger would rip his agenda from his tongue.

_To love me._

_To marry me._

_To break this curse._

His silence was meant with a haughty sniff, “I’ll leave you to find an answer.” Her curtsey was cold, “Thank you for the food. Good night.” She walked out of the room without another word or glance.

When the door closed behind her the Beast flipped the table over, the melting swan of ice shattering and his servants jumping in fright.

“If she insists I’m fattening her like cattle then fine! Accommodate her; she can starve for all I care!” He charged out of the room, slamming the door behind him and wishing the slam would take the whole castle down.

His trip to the west wing didn’t cool his temper, his claws twitched and his teeth grounded together. What did she want from him? To fall on his knees and beg her to dine with him? She couldn’t _honestly_ think he had planned to eat her!

…Could she?

The question had his breathing slow down, lifting a paw to stare at his thick black claws. Claws that could very easily tear through a woman’s flesh, his tongue ran across his fangs, fangs that poked out from his lip that could rip her open in the blink of an eye… He stood before the enchanted rose, his reflection looking back on the glass bell jar. “How can I…” he took in another breath, trying to ease his frayed nerves. His eyes narrowed on the rose. “How do you expect me to break this curse when I look like _this_? No one, especially not her, could love me when I look like a monster!” Of course he received no answer, the rose standing vigil, beautiful and covered in thorns. The Beast considered, not for the first time, destroying the rose. There was no true way to break the curse, the flower just wanted to mock them with false hope.

He pressed his head against the jar, his voice coming out pathetic and vulnerable: “It’s not my fault… It wasn’t my fault.”

A petal fell.

.

Belle had dropped her collected air as soon as she was safe in her room. Legs like jelly she fell onto the bed-only to hear a squeak underneath her. Belle cried out in shock and ended up slipping off the bed, landing on her tail bone. Her wide eyes followed a bulge under the blanket until it too fell off the edge of the bed. The lump turned out to be a snowy white kitten, clumsily falling onto its back and blinking up at Belle.

“Hi!” the kitten greeted, her fuzzy face lighting up with a smile.

Belle, not immune to adorable, tiny animals, felt her lips pull up. “Hello. Any reason you’re hiding in my bed?”

The kitten’s smile morphed into embarrassment and she shrugged her tiny shoulders. “I wanted to meet you! I’m Chaton!”

Belle picked up the small Chaton who sat easily in her palms. Her tail moved to cover her front paws but was too short. “I’m Belle,” the young woman greeted.

“I _knew_ you’d be pretty!”

The kitten’s declaration both amused and confused her. “How did you know that?” the question came out with a giggle.

“Because of your picture,” Chaton noticed the furrow in Belle’s brow. “Master has a locket that has a picture of your family.”

 _Papa’s locket_ , Belle realized. She grounded her teeth with annoyance, her opinion of that brute dropping lower and lower, she didn’t like the thought of him knowing what her family looked like.

A growl distracted her and Belle blushed, the sound coming from her empty stomach. The kitten’s laughter was like tinkling glass. “I thought you already ate!” She jumped off Belle’s palm and padded to the door. “What are you waiting for?” she asked when Belle didn’t follow. “I can get my Mamma to get us some food.”

Belle was incredibly reluctant to leave the safety and privacy of her room. But she was hungry and she had no intention of starving to death. Picking herself up she followed Chaton out to the hallway, keeping to the shadows just in case.

However the trip to the kitchen was uneventful, but upon arrival she saw it was being tended to by a large mischief of mice, and was surprised to find she wasn’t surprised at all. She was getting used to the fact that nothing in this castle made sense. Belle spotted a long-furred cat that could only be Chaton’s mother standing on a counter.

She smiled instantly when she spotted Belle, “Good evening, my dear.”

“She’s hungry, Mamma,” Chaton stood at Belle’s feet. “We both are!”

A purr rumbled in the older cat’s throat, her expression relieved. “Well don’t you worry, Chat here will fix you something right up.”

Belle was very intrigued at the thought of watching a cat cook, but she was quickly distracted by voices behind her.

“All that work gone to waste.”

“What did you expect after the way he acted?”

“Well if you ask me she was just being difficult-”

Plumes and Renard went silent when they walked into the kitchen to find Belle waiting for them with an arched brow. They both pulled on smiles. “Glad to see you up and about,” the owl stated.

“I can tell,” Belle smirked but it had no malice. After that dinner Belle had found sympathy for the creatures, fearing their master so.

Renard walked to her side and offered a friendly grin. “Let us formerly apologize for our master’s behavior at dinner.”

“Why?”

“Oh-well,” the fox shrugged. “Your slight about eating you _did_ catch him off guard, he-”

“No,” Belle interrupted. “Why are you apologizing on his behalf? Why are you _defending_ him after the way he treated you?”

“Because we’ve known him for years,” Chat explained softly, sadly. “And we know he has a goodness in him that he refuses to show.”

She pushed a bowl of vegetable soup to Belle (“Sorry it isn’t anything fancy, the mice are tuckered out.”) and a saucer of cream to Chaton.

Finding a stool to sit on Belle ate her soup at the counter, glad to ease the gnawing in her empty gut. Chaton’s small face was already covered in cream, having nearly dived into the saucer. “Where is your master?” Belle asked.

“He’s…retired for the night,” Plumes answered.

“Good.” Belle pushed her empty bowl away and smiled at the animals, “Then you can give me a tour of this enchanted castle.”

Renard looked ecstatic at the idea but Plumes was still cautious (Belle was realizing caution was his default). “I wouldn’t call this an _enchanted_ castle.”

Belle’s smirk was wry. “What would you call a castle full of talking animals?”

“Different.”

“Come on,” I bet you know all there is to know about this place.”

Her compliment had Plumes puffing up his feathers. “Well…yes, yes I do.”

Renard nudged the owl to the door. “Then let us go.”

“Me too!” Chaton jumped to the floor and to Renard, climbing onto his back. But Chaton gave her daughter a disapproving look, walking to them. “Chaton it’s your bedtime.”

The kitten pouted, “But Mama, we never have tours.”

“I’d love to have you two join us,” Belle said.

Chat sighed but nodded, “Alright. But when you’re grumpy in the morning I don’t want to hear it, Chaton.”

Renard led the group through the castle, Belle studying her surroundings while Plumes had started a monologue about the history of the castle. As hundreds of words flew out of his beak Belle noticed he didn’t even mention the Beast. But as she studied the walls and sculptures, tapestries and chandeliers, Belle had a sense that something was off about the castle. The atmosphere felt so…sad.

They were passing a pair of double doors and she noticed that it was open a crack. Slowing to a halt Belle peeked inside the room and instantly opened the door farther to step inside.

It was a ball room, and it was beautiful. Large sparkling chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the marble floor was golden with shining white and black patterns. But the most amazing part was that one wall was completely made of glass, showing the large balcony on the other side and the sparkling stars that were like a thousand diamonds. The light from both the stars and chandeliers made the entire room glitter.

“Miss Belle?”

She turned around to smile at the animals, the four having followed her into the ball room. “This is _beautiful_!”

“Yes, yes it is.” Renard walked to her and tried to nudge her out of the room. “Now let’s go.”

Belle stumbled before quickly catching herself. “Why? I like this room.”

“The Master isn’t-isn’t overly fond of the ball room,” Chat explained quietly.

“And I’m not overly fond of your master,” was Belle’s tart reply. “Besides I’m not asking _him_ to join us in here.”

When the pack still looked unsure she smiled deviously, “Or I could check the West Wing instead.” When they jolted in panic she shrugged innocently. “This is my home now, is it not? I can understand not being allowed in one room but two?”

Plumes and Chat exchanged torn expressions, but Renard was starting to nod. “She has a point. Our poor Belle had a terrible first impression of both her new home and us.” He smiled at her, emerald eyes like jewels, “Let’s have some fun.”

Plumes let out a resigned breath. “Very well, Chat, can you still play piano?”

“Of course.” The snowy cat padded to a grand piano of ivory that Belle hadn’t even noticed.

“Me too! Me too!” Chaton followed after her mother. Belle watched, transfixed, as Chat sat before the piano, her soft paws dancing across the piano keys. The tune that came out was bouncy and friendly, putting her more at ease. And Belle knew if she closed her eyes she could easily imagine herself in a room full of people.

She smiled down at Renard who stretched his paw out to her. “May I have this dance?”

She giggled, “You most certainly may.” Grabbing his paws she pulled him into the middle of the floor, holding him up on his hind legs as they spun in numerous circles. It was a simple dance, hardly a dance at all, but it combined with the animals’ friendliness helped to ease the ache in her heart.

“Plumes,” Renard called to his friend, pulling Belle to a stop. “Want a turn?”

Belle smiled at the grumpy owl who hadn’t moved from the door. “Yes, Plumes. Come dance with me. I bet you’re good at it.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Flattery won’t always get you your way, you know… But I suppose I can join in for the sake of being a good host.”

.

He had been in a place that was half awake and half in slumber when a sound lifted his head from the table. No new petal had fallen.

Triangular ears twitching he walked to his door, staying in the frame that divided his lair from the hallway. The sound was tugging at his strings of nostalgia. He took a step forward, out of the shadows and safety of his lair-and immediately-wish he hadn’t. Because then those strings parted the curtains of his memories and he realized the music came from the ball room. The ball room he had ordered his servants to stay away from, the room where his life had ended. Joyful dancing of swishing skirts filled his mind, his feeling of indifference tinged with annoyance at the whole thing. The old hag in the rain…the flash of light…the searing pain… The force of that night nearly floored him. Panting he felt the red haze fall over his eyes, his breathing turned raspy and his claws flexed.

He knew it was _her_ fault.

.

Renard was finding great amusement in watching Belle and Plumes’ awkward choreography. The owl’s flapping wings sending her hair flying as she held his talons. “Perhaps using a coat rack could help,” the fox said through his laughter. “Belle could dance with that while you roost on it.” While he watched the two, Chaton had taken over the piano, hopping across the keys and running her mother’s melody.

Belle smiled at Renard, her heart fluttering from the exposure to good company, “We can give him an A for effort.”

The owl rolled his eyes and pulled his talons out of her grip, going to land on the piano. “If you two are such experts then teach me.”

“My feet hurt,” Renard emphasized his words by sprawling on the cold marble floor. Belle chuckled, holding up her blue skirts and twirling in a circle. “It’s funny,” she mused aloud as she waved around the room. “I’ve never had any interest in ball rooms before.” Before her father had lost his fortune her family would frequent many dances. But just like in the small town they now lived in Belle had never been able to find someone to connect to. She smirked, turning on her heel and facing the four, “Maybe I like it now knowing it would drive your master mad-well, _madder_.”

She had just registered their sudden looks of horror when she took a step back and her back bumped into something hard and warm. Belle immediately jumped forward, whirling around to see the Beast standing before her, expression unreadable.

“You would be right,” his growl was soft. Twilight eyes shot to his servants, “I could’ve sworn I told you this room was off limits.”

“I made them come in,” Belle quickly said. She lifted her chin when his eyes moved back to her. “It was my idea.”

“Dragged them in, did you?” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

“What does it matter?”

He ignored her question, stomping over to the piano and the four animals. “I thought I made my instructions clear?”

“She wanted to see the ball room, Master,” Chat’s voice was soft.

The Beast’s fur was bristling, he looked positively vivid. “This is not her castle. You listen to _me_ not her.”

Belle scowled and stormed over to the Beast. “Leave them alone, it was my idea so just-”

“ _STAY OUT OF THIS_!” his furious yell made Belle take several steps back, eyes wide with fear.

“This is _not_ your home,” he snapped, white fangs flashing. “You’re my prisoner that I deeply regret having!”

Belle tried to collect her bravery, but the Beast seemed to be growing larger with every infuriated breath he took. “I just-”

“Get out,” his voice was soft but hard as granite.

“But I only-”

“ **I SAID GET OUT**!!!”

Belle turned on her heel and ran out of the room while she was still reeling from her fear. She faintly heard Renard calling out for her but she didn’t stop until she was outside. She found Philippe and Darling just outside the stable, not bothering with grabbing a saddle she urged them to the castle’s gates. “Promise or not I can’t stay here.”

Seconds later she was past the gates and atop Philippe, leading him through the thick forest with Darling keeping pace beside them. Belle’s heart was ready to thud out of her chest, her fingers trembling slightly. It had been less the Beast’s yell and more his expression that had frightened her away. There had been so much hate and pain in his face, like being in that ball room had stabbed spikes in his heart, had taken what he loved most…

But it no longer mattered, he had basically given her his blessing to leave and leaving she was more than happy to do, to return to Papa and her siblings and never think of this night again. But the night would continue to throw her plans into disarray.

Having only been galloping through the forests for a few minutes she quickly pulled Philippe to a halt when out of the shadows came a stranger. He jolted slightly when he caught sight of Belle and her two horses, the moonlight showed his face was gaunt and adorned with a grizzled beard. A large dog stood by his side, beady black eyes giving her and her horses a hungry look.

“W-who are you?” Belle kept her eyes on the man while she stroke Philippe’s mind to keep him calm, the dog had he and Darling on edge.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied, gray eyes moving over she and the horses. “What’s a young girl like you doing out in the woods at night?”

“I’m returning home,” she kept herself poised. “My parents are expecting me. And if I was you I wouldn’t stay in these woods for long?”

“Oh?” the man’s smirk was smug as he stroked his salivating dog’s ears.

Belle’s voice was foreboding, “There’s a Beast in this forest. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Stay any longer and _you_ could be its next meal.”

His smile didn’t wane and for a moment Belle assumed he would just call her a liar, instead his next words were cold with threat, “Oh, sweetheart, the only beasts in this forest are the ones in front of you.”

The words had just left his lips when hands grabbed Belle and yanked her off her horse and suddenly she was surrounded by men- _bandits_ -and their barking hounds. She let out a shrill scream, trying to kick and struggle away from the hands that dug into her waist. Philippe and Darling whinnied, the bandits throwing ropes around their necks and the dogs biting at their ankles.

“ _Get off me let me go_!” she screeched, her throat straining in terror as she was pushed to the cold ground. “ _Stay away!_ _Stay away!_ ”

“Easy, sweetheart,” the first bandit purred, kneeling before her and holding her kicking legs down. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Through teary eyes Belle saw him start to lift up her skirts, only to be violently slammed away. The shadow that had knocked him away grabbed the man holding her arms and the moonlight shined down on the Beast, and he looked absolutely _monstrous_. He threw the bandit aside like he weighed no more than a leaf, the man getting knocked into two other bandits.

The Beast then dropped to all fours, standing protectively in front of her and letting out a roar that rattled her bones and made the horses whinny in fright. But the dogs weren’t as intimidated, with wide eyes and bared teeth they jumped at the Beast, clawing and biting into his flesh. One dog dug its fangs into his throat and he grabbed it and ripped it away from his flesh. He rolled across the ground, dislodging the dogs on his back and swiping them away with his massive paws. He had just risen to his feet again when he let out a bark of pain, one of the bandits having shot an arrow that sliced across the skin of his shoulder. He whirled around, blue eyes blazing and shot toward the bandits at an incredible speed, his claws slicing across the stomach of the archer. The man cried out in pain and Belle saw a flash of blood before the group ran, they and the dogs disappearing into the dark of the woods.

The Beast, panting and dripping with blood, turned and met Belle’s eyes. They stared at each other for a few moments before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed onto the ground. Belle sat watching him for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart, her breast fluttering like a bird. Philippe, he and Darling having calmed down, nuzzled her head. Belle lifted a shaking hand and stroked his nose. “Shh, shh.”

Still shivering she tried to stand up, her legs like jelly, and walked to the Beast’s side, kneeling before him and studying the wounds and bite marks across his body. He had done that for her. He had come to the forest, risked his life, to save _her_. Belle reached a hand out and touched his uninjured shoulder. His eyes popped open, making her start.

“Are you alright?”

His concerned question had her releasing a shuddering breath and she nodded. “Good,” he tried to lift himself up, limbs shaking with the effort only to fell back down.

“Let me help you.” Belle insisted.

“I can do it on my own.” He tried to rise again and was just about to fall down again when Belle’s arms reached out and wrapped around his shoulders. The action brought her face against his coarse fur and she felt his muscles tense.

“ _Let me help you_ ,” she repeated, softly yet firmly. And several moments later she felt him relax against her.

“Okay.”

.

Philippe had carried the Beast back to the castle, his servants nearly having a heart attack upon seeing their master bleeding with bite marks.

Now he was sprawled on the floor before the fireplace, the crackling red glow throwing shadows across the floor. Renard and the others were sitting across from the Beast while Belle _tried_ to clean his wounds. “Don’t do that!” she snapped when he tried to lick the wound on his shoulder. She sat beside him, a rag wet with warm water in hand, he growled softly when she reached out to him. Belle gave him a stern look, “Now stay still.”

But the Beast still squirmed when she placed the damp cloth on his wound, making him yelp in pain. “ _That hurt_!”

“That’s why I told you to stay still!” she snapped back.

He narrowed his eyes before turning his head away from her. “You shouldn’t have run off like that, not in the dark.” Belle would’ve growled back if his voice hadn’t been tinged with worry, his claws flexing nervously.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t state the obvious: “And _you_ shouldn’t have screamed in my face.”

He blew out a breath through his nose, eyes glowing in the flames and ears pulled back in an almost pouting manner. Belle let out a sigh, feeling an odd bubble of amusement rising up her throat. He felt smaller now, less intimidating, and his temper more like a tantrum. “Now if you’re done acting like a spoiled toddler let me say thank you.”

The Beast wasn’t the only one surprised by her words; from the corner of her eye she spotted Renard and the others exchanging surprised looks. She met the Beast’s eyes, astonished and in disbelief. Her expression was sincere and voice more so and she breathed, “You saved my life. _Thank you_.”

He was the first to break eye contact, his face flustered and voice quiet. “…You’re welcome.”

Belle felt her lips turn up into a smile, “Be careful or someone might think you care.”

He snorted dryly but kept quiet.

Continuing to tend to his wounds Belle noticed her insides were no longer twisted with fear, her hands no longer trembling, and her pulse was once again steady and strong. For the first time upon arrival Belle felt safe.

.

The next day the Beast, for once, found himself outside. Belle was tending to her horses, the creatures surviving last night’s attacks with only a few nips. The Beast stood a few feet away, silently watching her and holding back a yawn. He had barely slept the night before, his wounds stinging and every time he closed his eyes he saw her, smiling and sincere.

And now he was standing there feeling like an idiot with his heart running like a jack rabbit, not that either thing should be happening, Belle wasn’t paying him any attention. Renard appeared by his side, accompanied by Lapin and the collie named Abel who tended to the gardens.

“Why don’t you go and start up a conversation with her?” the fox asked.

He glanced down at his servants. “Why?”

“Renard told us you two connected last night,” Lapin smiled, her big eyes shining. The Beast rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t say _that_.” He turned his attention back to Belle in time to see her look over her shoulder to smile at him. He swallowed.

“Well, _I_ want to talk to her,” Abel spoke up. “We haven’t been properly introduced.” He trotted off to Belle with ease and the Beast wondered how everyone except for him could approach her so easily.

He watched as Belle greeted the collie, kneeling down to be at eye level with him. “I hadn’t realized there were more animals.”

Abel shrugged, “Most of us were asleep when you arrived. But news traveled fast this morning. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. But before she could say more high-pitched yipping had her looking up a moment before she was tackled by a litter of pups.

“Kids!” Abel barked then noticed a witch splotch amongst the brown. “Chaton! Get off her!”

But Belle was laughing, trying to wrap her arms around the whole group. “No, they’re fine, and all so _cute_!” Her amber eyes were glittering and the longer the Beast watched her the harder it was to suck air into his lungs.

But then he suddenly stumbled forward, he glared down at Renard who tried to nudge him again. “Go, talk to her. Use the puppies as a conversation starter.”

“Stop pushing me,” he growled, but walked to Belle anyway, feeling his fur prickle. Abel’s children, along with Chaton, were crawling across Belle’s lap, all talking in unison. But when the Beast’s shadow fell over them they instantly yipped and hid behind Belle, he tried to squelch the feeling of guilt their reaction caused.

“Hi,” Belle greeted him, her smile still in place. She pulled herself to her feet and dusted off her dress. He then remembered that clothes could be a conversation starter.

“I like your dress.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, practically incoherent and incredibly awkward. But Belle either didn’t notice or ignored it, instead holding up her skirts and spinning in a circle. “Thank you,” she gushed. “You have an amazing magic mirror you know.”

He shrugged, “It’s one of the few good things I have in this castle.”

His words had Chaton stepping forward and looking up at him with defiance in her bright blue eyes, “ _We’re_ good things!”

Belle giggled at the kitten’s indignation. “Of course, it’s so obvious we didn’t even mention it.”

“What she said,” the Beast replied, not sure how to behave around children. Chaton and Abel’s litter usually avoided him and he had never sought them-or any of his servants-for company. But their words arose a purr from Chaton’s throat and the puppies giggled before dashing off across the grass, the kitten waving goodbye to Belle before hurrying after. Abel quickly padded after them.

“They’re adorable,” Belle smiled up at the Beast.

“But wild,” was all he could think to say under that amber glint.

“That’s _all_ children,” she pointed out, her head moving to see that her horses had walked a couple of steps away to find a thick patch of grass.

The Beast thought of another icebreaker, “How are the horses?” This one was just as awkward and incoherent as the last one.

But again Belle spoke as if he wasn’t self-conscious. “They’re fine, thanks to you.” His ears, now warm, folded against his skull. She continued to talk, watching Darling nuzzle against Philippe’s side: “They’re sweethearts you know.”

“They’re horses.”

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, “Your point? We had Philippe since he was a colt and a few years back we bought Darling and they took to each other instantly. I think it was Philippe’s love for her that brought us to this castle.” The Beast supposed he could be grateful for that. But then Belle asked, “Do you want to pet them?”

“They’ll fear me,” he pointed out, taking a small step back.

Belle rolled her eyes, “Which is why you should let them get used to you. This is their home now, too.”

She reached out and grabbed his paw, throwing him off (she had touched him with such ease) and pulling him to the two horses. As expected their ears flicked with ease when they saw him approaching, their hooves stomping the ground nervously.

“Darling,” Belle called out. She reached her free hand out and clicked her tongue, “Here, girl.” It took a few moments but finally the mare slowly walked to Belle side, nuzzling into her hand. “Go ahead and pet her,” Belle invited, releasing his paw and stroking Darling’s long nose, cooing sweet words to her. The Beast swallowed but stepped forward, his arm slowly stretching out and hesitantly placing his hand against her mane, the horse looked at him and he tried to look as non-threatening as possible. It must have worked because the horse snorted and returned her attention to Belle, the girl smiled cheekily at him as the Beast ran his paw across the horse’s neck, enjoying the feel of her well-groomed fur.

“Want to try and feed her?” Belle offered, holding out a handful of baby carrots.

He looked at them dubiously, “Do you really think she’ll accept food from me, it’s different from just letting me pet her.”

“Yes, but a way to a lady’s heart is through her stomach.”

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, “I thought that was only for men.”

She shrugged, “It works with ladies too. Especially if said lady is a horse.” Once again she took his paw as if it was the most natural thing to do and placed the carrots on his palm. She then lead his paw to Darling’s mouth, the horse’s nostrils twitching for a moment before accepting the snack, her lips rubbing across the pads of his paws, tickling him.

“See?” Belle looked far too proud. The Beast made to smile but then he jolted in place when suddenly, Philippe was there, nibbling on his ear in greeting before moving to his paw. The sight made Belle laugh, “Poor Philippe is feeling left out.”

He felt a chuckle bubble and rise out of his throat, noticing from the corner of her eye Belle giving him a strange look. He didn’t confront her about it, he knew it was odd to see him laugh, he couldn’t remember the last time he did so. Laughing was a nice feeling that eased the tension in his chest.

They spent a few more minutes feeding the horses, but to the Beast’s chagrin Philippe showed more interest in nibbling his ear then eating any carrots. “Does he do this to everyone?” he asked a giggling Belle.

She shook her head, “He used to do it to our old dog Felix; it means he likes you.” “Could his displays of affection involve less saliva?” he asked, causing the girl to laugh harder. The Beast flicked his soaked ear, not as amused. “Couldn’t he nibble Abel or Renard’s ear instead?”

Belle grinned audaciously. “So you’re saying you _aren’t_ incredibly flattered by Philippe’s intense love?” She looked over her shoulder to see Renard and Lapin sitting on a bench, watching them with large smiles. “Why are they watching us?”

“Because they’re nosy,” the Beast replied. With the horse still nuzzling against his head he turned and glared at the fox and rabbit. “Haven’t you two anything better to do?”

Renard smiled happily, “No.” Lapin chuckled beside him. The Beast rolled his eyes but Belle didn’t seem bothered by their gawking. And then frantic barking brought their attention to Abel’s pups, tripping over themselves to reach Belle.

“We can’t find Chaton!” they barked.

Belle tilted her head, “She’s missing?”

“No,” one of the pups, the Beast remembered his name was Alexander, sat down with a huff. “We’re playing hide and seek and she’s really good at it.”

Belle smiled softly, “How dare she. Come on then, I’ll help you find her.” She looked at the Beast, “I’ll let you stay here in Philippe’s embrace.”

“Har, har,” was his sarcastic reply before Belle followed the puppies out to the labyrinth of gardens. He was alone with the horses for a mere second before Renard and Lapin appeared at his side, the fox making an ecstatic shrilling sound.

“She _likes_ you,” Lapin bounced happily.

Renard was trotting around him with his tail in the air, “You _connected_.”

The Beast tried not to show how flustered (and hopeful) the words made him. “Her horse likes me more than she does.” He patted Philippe’s mane, Darling nuzzled into his other paw, hunting for more carrots.

Lapin scoffed, which wasn’t that impressive considering how soft-spoken the rabbit was, “Don’t even try to act like that. You made her laugh.”

“So?”

“ _So_ that means you charmed her!” Renard looked ready to leap to the sun. “Now go, go find her!”

“She’s busy.”

“Go help her find Chaton,” Lapin encouraged. “Or even play hide and seek with her.”

Renard was nodding, his head a russet blur, “Yes, yes. Go have fun. I have to go tell Plumes and Chat and the rest of the household!” He dashed away without a goodbye, Lapin following after her and leaving the Beast blinking and slightly dazed. He and Belle weren’t _children_ , they didn’t play hide and seek.

Darling, figuring out he had no more carrots, trotted away to find more grass to munch on. Philippe pulled himself from the Beast’s ear and following after her, their sides brushing as they walked together and he couldn’t help feeling slightly jealous of the two horses.

He walked off to where Belle had disappeared, walking through the tall hedges of the garden’s labyrinth, nose twitching. He was surprised to stumble across Abel’s pups, all looking pouty. They jumped, startled when they saw him. “Where is Belle?” he asked.

“She said maybe if she hid she’d find Chaton,” the pup named Lily answered. She frowned, “Now we can’t find her either.”

He smirked. “I’ll find her.” The puppies blinked up at him and watched, transfixed as he walked next to the edge, sniffing the air and greenery. He stopped beside one of the many paths that led throughout the maze. He knelt closer to the ground and breathed in, catching the scent of Belle-it was a unique scent, reminding him of the country and books. He stood up and walked down the path, the pups following after him. This certain path led into a round clearing, decorated by patches of daises and sunflowers, a stone bench and one tree. The puppies immediately ran past him, sniffling around the bench and flowers.

“They’re not here!” Alexander whined, the Beast walking over to stand by the bench.

He smirked at the puppy then lifted his head to the trees, “Yes, they are.” Through the thick leaves of the tree he saw dark skin and white fur. “I found you.”

“No you didn’t!” Chaton’s mew came from the branches and the puppies barked in excitement.

The Beast rolled his eyes. “Yes I have. Belle, you know I’ve won, right?”

He heard a faint sigh, “As much as it pains me…” She appeared on the lowest branch, sitting on the bark with Chaton on her shoulder. “I accept defeat.”

The puppies’ yipping grew louder and the Beast tried to hold back his smile. But then Belle slipped off the branch and he reached out to grab her-only to realize the lowest branch was only a few feet from the ground and she didn’t need him to catch her. Of course he only realized that _after_ he had caught her hips. She blinked up at him, slightly surprised and he quickly pulled his arms away, taking several steps back, “Sorry.”

Chaton spoke before Belle could, “I demand a rematch!”

“Now, now,” Belle waved her finger at the kitten. “Hamlet’s Uncle Claudius couldn’t accept defeat either and trust me when I say it didn’t work out for him.”

Chaton huffed with annoyance but jumped off Belle’s shoulder, running over to play with the pups. But the Beast was staring at her with surprise, when she noticed his wide eyes her expression was mildly defensive. “What is it?”

“You know Hamlet?”

Her expression mirrored his own, “ _You_ know Hamlet?”

Beast’s heart was thumping madly and he realized it was because he was excited. Far more than he had ever been in his life, the excitement made his lips curl into a smile. “Come with me.”

.

Belle wasn’t sure what to think that it took her being attack by bandits for the Beast to open up. Showing a softer, more awkward side she found adorably amusing. He was clearly a shy creature, having to be coached to feed her horses; Renard had probably encouraged him to go after her as well.

But now he was leading her through the hallways of his castle, she having to jog to keep pace with him. His ears were pricked and his tail was bushy and his eyes sparkled with the excitement of a child’s. _You know Hamlet?_ He had sounded so surprised and…impressed. Which was new to Belle, with the exception of her father and Nicholas people would, at best, tolerate her reading.

The Beast came to halt so abrupt that Belle nearly collided into his back. He had stopped before another set of large doors not unlike the ball room. But his twinkling eyes and upturned lips told her this room would be completely different.

“What’s going on? Your smiling is unnerving.”

But he wasn’t listening to her, throwing the doors open and stepping inside, Belle followed behind him and nearly fell to her knees when she saw the room before her. It was a library…and it was even more amazing than the ball room.

It was just as large, it was _immense_. The walls covered from top to bottom with shelves and shelves of books, books of all different shapes and sizes, all ready to be open and take her into amazing new worlds. The roof was a glass dome, the midday sun shining down and warming the bluish white marble floor. The library was also broken into two floors, the bottom floor filled with large tables, comfy chairs and a large fireplace. Above the fireplace was a large portrait of a regal looking woman, adorned in a beautiful crimson dress, her blue eyes were oddly familiar. A spiraling staircase led to the second floor, said floor had rails and was pressed against the wall, and she spotted a few more tables and chairs up there along with windows letting in more light.

Belle lifted her hands to cover her mouth, eyes glittering with an exhilaration that was bringing tears to her eyes. “Have…have you read all of these books?”

The Beast puffed up his chest, “I have, some more than once.” He watched her eyes absorb the sight before her. His prideful look was dispelled and he now looked nervous, “Do…do you like it?”

“I _love_ it!” she turned to him, pulling her hands away so he could see the large smile splitting her face.

His smugness returned but it was tinged with relief, “Then help yourself.” He waved his arm out to indicate to the library. “I have all Shakespeare’s work and more.”

Her next word came out in an enchanted breath, “ _Really_?”

He nodded, “I’ve never really met anyone else interested in books. Read whatever you like.” He jolted in place when she was suddenly right in front of him, holding his paws in her hands and face shining.

“ _Thank you_.” She pulled her hands away and rushed to one of the many shelves, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! Can you give me a tour? Who else do you have?”

Still feeling the sensation of her soft skin he followed after her, ready to impress her with his book knowledge.

.

Renard, Lapin, Plumes, and Chat stood at the open library doors, watching Belle and their master look through the book shelves. Whenever the girl found a book that interested her she placed it beside one of the chairs by the fireplace, she so far had found four books she planned to read. While the animals couldn’t overhear their quiet conversation by their soft, almost tender expressions, it was going well.

“What did I tell you?” Renard whispered excitedly to Plumes and Chat. He was bouncing in place, showing off all his teeth in a large grin. “ _What did I tell you_?”

“Well bless my soul,” Chat purred, smiling at the two. “They look so happy together.”

Lapin smiled at the cat, “That’s what happens when you fall in love.”

Plumes flapped his wings, getting their attention. “Perhaps we should leave them be then, hmm. They can’t fall in love with us gawking at them.”

Renard rolled his eyes as the four walked off, “Come now, Plumes must you be a stick in the mud even over happy things.”

The owl huffed, talons clicking on the smooth floor as he followed his friend. “Just because I don’t want to stare at them doesn’t make me a stick in the mud.”

.

“Oh.” Belle breathed happily, pulling a book of burgundy leather from the shelf. “This is one of my favorites!” She showed the title to the Beast, “Romeo and Juliet.”

To her surprise he snorted, “Is it?”

“Don’t snort,” she replied, protectively holding the book to her chest. “This is one of Shakespeare’s best work.” She happily walked over to a chair, making herself comfortable before opening her book. She hadn’t a chance to finish the copy she had originally had and was eager to pick up where she left off. “It’s one of the best love stories ever told.”

“No it’s not,” the Beast had walked to stand beside her chair, his tone sarcastic and amused. “It’s a cautionary tale about the danger of feuds.”

“ _And_ forbidden romance,” Belle pointed out.

He rolled his eyes, “It was not romance. If their parents didn’t hate each other they wouldn’t have even known each other’s names.”

It was Belle’s turn to roll her eyes. “You are such a believer of everlasting love aren’t you?” She had only been joking but his expression suddenly looked upset, like he thought he had truly offended her.

“I wouldn’t say that…” he trailed off, eyes on the empty fireplace.

Belle quickly tried to bring his good mood back, finding she rather enjoyed it when he smiled, even when he was teasing. “What is your favorite work of Shakespeare?”

He looked relieved when he turned back to her, his smile having returned. “Let me tell you about a man named Macbeth.”

.

The next few days were a pattern, Belle and the Beast spending hours on end in the library, reading through every single book in the library. But Belle couldn’t decide which she enjoyed more, reading the books or debating them with this oddly knowledgeable beast.

They were still at ends over Romeo and Juliet, to the point she decided to dub him Montague to tease him. “It’s better than just calling you ‘Beast’.”

He glared at her smile but it held no malice, “So you’ll name me after a household whose idiotic son killed himself because he couldn’t be with the girl who knew for two days?”

“You certainly have the stubbornness trait of the Montague family.”

He rolled his eyes but never tried to dissuade her. That’s one thing Belle was appreciating more and more, he almost thirsted for her opinions and her personality. Listening to her book rants not with patience but with genuine interest. And he was so quick to offer his own insight to the books they read and it felt like she had finally- _finally_ -found someone she could connect with.

When they weren’t in the library they were either in the dinning room, the first dinner forgotten like a bad dream. Or outside, Chaton and the pups insisting they play tag or hide and seek and Belle always helped drag Montague into the game. She enjoyed seeing the animals relax around him; start to appreciate his company like she did.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the servants, Renard and Plumes practically preening with excitement. “Any day now,” they said to any animal they passed. The servants had started to busy themselves cleaning the castle, making it spick and span. While Belle was outside one day she saw Lapin at one of the larger windows, wiping it clean.

She was sitting next to Montague on a bench; he was reading aloud the story of King Arthur and the Round Table. She nudged him and he stopped reading, turning his twilight eyes on her. “Is there a specific reason your servants are cleaning like their lives depend on it?” She gave him a shrewd look, “You didn’t order than to clean so they’d leave us alone did you?”

He shook his head, “No, but now that you said it…that’s an ingenious idea.” He looked up to see Lapin cleaning the window, “They’re probably just trying to make you feel more at home. They like you.”

“I like them too,” she replied, smiling. “They’re all very sweet, and funny.”

“They have their moments,” he agreed, his voice betraying his affection for them. Belle smiled at him, remembering how Chat had explained there was goodness in him. The cat had been right.

And knowing that urged her to say her next words: “I like you too.”

The four words made them quickly break eye contact, the air suddenly too hot for Belle’s liking. Montague cleared his throat and a few moments later mumbled a faint, “I’m glad.”

And that made Belle _far_ too happy.

.

That night found them before the library’s fireplace, embers crackling and casting the room in a warm glow. Belle sat on the floor, back against a chair while she turned a page of Gulliver’s Travels. Meanwhile Montague was sprawled on the floor, reading a copy of Robinson Crusoe. The only sound the paper turning and the fire blazing for several minutes-until Belle could no longer take it.

“Who is that?” she closed the book and lifted a finger to the woman’s portrait above the fireplace. The Beast lifted his head to look at the portrait and if Belle hadn’t been watching him she would’ve missed the pain that flashed across his face.

“A…an amazing woman,” he breathed, voice tender with unbridled love. It made Belle look back up at the portrait, the woman looked a few years younger than her Papa, and while she had never asked Montague’s name she could tell he was near Belle’s own age. What had been his relationship with this woman?

Montague was still talking, his voice fond with memories: “She was smart and kind, unlike any other woman in the world…but she was also foolish.”

Belle blinked at him. “How could she be both smart and foolish?”

Montague met her gaze, his eyes were glazed with a bitterness she knew wasn’t directed at her, but it filled her with sympathy and she desperately wanted to know what brought such resentment to him. “Because she fell in love with an awful man, a disgusting man who didn’t truly love her in return. But she stayed with him, gave him a child, and spent her entire life not living up to her potential…” His claws scraped across the floor, leaving grooves and his eyes glared into the fire, blue eyes now blazing. Blue eyes that she realized…were the exact same shade as the woman in the portrait…

“Beast-” she began but he was standing up, looking on edge with his fur bristling.

His voice was hoarse as he turned away, “Excuse me, I…I need some time to myself.”

But Belle shot her arms out, grabbing his wrist and giving him a beseeching look, “Please don’t be upset.” His eyes were glassy as he looked down at her. “I’m sorry I brought it up, just forget about it.”

He placed his other paw over her hand, his fur warm and soft. His lips turned up into a soft smile, “It’s alright. I’m fine. I’ll see you at dinner.” He slipped his paw out of her grip and turned away, quietly walking out of the room. Belle watched him go, feeling a hollow ache in her chest she tried to ignore, but it stayed put, her heart beating up into her throat.

.

He found himself in the middle of the ball room. Not completely sure why he had come to the room where his life ended. But he had to get away from Belle before he scared her; talk of his parents had rubbed his nerves raw. He had liked telling Belle about his mother, he thought the two would’ve liked each other, but as for his father…another one of the many reasons he was glad the man was dead.

It was bad enough he had never truly loved his mother.

It was bad enough he had neglected him as a child.

It was bad enough this entire curse was _his_ fault.

The Beast let his eyes slip closed and breathed, and then as easily as opening an door he was back to that night:

“Sure you don’t want to dance with any of these lovely young ladies, Master?”

He was slouched in his chair, his glare turning on Renard who stood by his side. Even during a ball the man didn’t bother to try and tame his ginger curls, at least Plumes looked presentable, standing in one corner of the room and making conversation with a group of old geezers.

“Why?” he asked Renard and the man’s smile was pained. Knowing better than to answer he nodded and stepped back, his green eyes roving until he spotted the curvy maid Lapin and walked to her.

He didn’t even know why he had to host this awful ball, all these stuffy, boring people he was sure his father would enjoy. It had been months since the man and his mother had passed away but it still left a bitter twist in his gut that made him taste metal. He was fine without his father, he didn’t need him. But his mother had left far too soon, Chat and the other servants had been there for him but their insistence in still treating him as a child drove him up the wall. He was not a toddler to be coddled!

His eyes, the blue of twilight, his mother’s eyes, fell over the crowd of the ballroom. The debutantes, wrapped in spring colors, all looking at him with the hunger of wolves and among them were men in tailored suits whose mission was to either win over a lady’s hand or make him a drinking buddy. Cellos, violins, pianos, and more filled the room with surprisingly bouncy music, trying to drown out the sound of the raging storm outside.

His aggravated nerves only got worse as the night went on. So when Plumes approached him and told him there was an uninvited guest he was ready to kick the stranger out into the storm. He followed Plumes to the middle of the room where a crowd had gathered, but they quickly stepped back skirts and tailcoats swishing as they made room for their prince.

In the middle of the room, standing in a puddle of rain, was a disgusting hag wrapped in a thick black cloak that was completely drenched. He scowled in disgust as he looked at her deformed face, warts covering her nose and cheek, beady milky gray eyes looking right through him. She opened her mouth, revealing three brown stumps; she spoke in a garbled voice that scraped like rock against flint to his ears. She asked to stay the night until the storm passed.

He growled at her, “This is not an inn. Even my _invited_ guests will not be staying the night.” He ignored how the looks said guests exchanged ranging from disappointment to offense. His eyes stayed on the hag who pulled a perfect red rose from underneath her cloak, her gnarled hand stretching out, offering it to him, saying it was payment to stay in his castle. He repeated that she could _not_ stay that is she didn’t leave now he would have her _thrown_ out.

And then she said something that iced his bones and burned his flesh: “You have grown into your father.”

He bared his teeth and clenched his fists, shaking in his fury. How dare she compare him to that piece of scum whose eyes always wandered from his wife? Whose hand was always raised to strike the son who had been a disappointment until the day he died. _How **dare** she_?! “Get out, witch,” he breathed through his grinding teeth.

“I warned him your bloodline would suffer if he did not raise you to be a kinder man.” She shook her head in an almost pitying nature. He reached out and slapped the rose out of her hand, the flower following to the marble floor.

“ _I SAID GET OUT_!”

The hag gave him a long, expressionless look, then closed her eyes. There was a sudden blinding white light, the guests and servants letting out shrill screams of fright. And when the light dimmed the hag was gone, replaced by a gorgeous woman, her white hair flowing to her waist, her darkly hued dress looked like she was wearing the evening sky. Her violet eyes gave him an intense look full of disappointment and pity and he dropped to his knees, jaw slack and eyes large.

“You have failed,” her voice was like a melody, her very skin seemed to glow as she stepped forward. “And now you must bear the weight of your father’s sins-and your own.” The woman-no, the enchantress, waved her hand over him and for a moment the world was still.

And then a ripping pain started to tear open his skin, he let out a guttural cry, curling into himself as he felt his bones stretch, his skin on fire, his jaws aching and his nails splitting. His ears nearly bled with piercing screams of terror, like daggers digging into his flesh. But through the cries of horror he heard the enchantress’s voice, calm and clear in his head: “ _Power and Glory and Greed-all three, have made a man a Beast through me. And no Escape shall ever be, til born of Love with Soul fear free. A Woman’s hand shall hold the Key_.”

“Master?”

The Beast’s eyes popped open, the ballroom once again empty, the floor dry and empty. He turned around to see Renard and Chat standing at the door, looking concerned. “Are you alright? What are you doing in here?”

The Beast pulled in a breath, sucking in bravery and resolve as well as oxygen. When he spoke again he vowed he would not take back his words: “I want to invite Belle to a dance.”


	3. Chapter 3

Usually when Gaston spent the night at the pub it became a place to celebrate how amazing he was. Nowadays it was a place to pity him.

Belle’s rejection had wounded his ego no doubt, but what hurt more was that he couldn’t try to win her over, the girl having disappeared the night of his proposal. Her brother and sisters coming to the pub to try and appease him, stroking his damaged ego and telling him how Belle had just been surprised, that she would come around with time, just be patient with her. With a few drinks in him Gaston was just recollecting his resolve to pursue the girl when suddenly Maurice and Nicholas came into the pub. The old man had been trembling, eyes wide and glassy while his son held his arm and led him to their other siblings.

“Father!” Tristan gasped. “Where have you been?”

Maurice’s voice was hollow, “Belle…it took Belle.” He grabbed Tristan’s arms, “Belle was taken by a beast!”

Gaston watched silently while Maurice’s children tried to calm their hysterical father down. Not even Nicholas believed what he was saying. But the young man did explain how Belle had gone to look for Maurice-and she hadn’t returned. Gaston had led a small search party out, exploring the outskirts of the forest while Maurice kept insisting that they had to go deeper, that the beast’s castle was in the darkest part of the forest. Gaston had rolled his eyes at the man, there was no way a fragile thing like Belle would have gone that far into such a foreboding forest. No, after a few days everyone except for the old man had decided that Belle ran away, and everyone had their own theory on why she did.

“She was such an adventurous soul, she wanted to put some miles behind her.”

“She actually _hated_ her new country life; she went to find a way to regain riches.”

“She didn’t want to marry Gaston.”

That last theory always soured his throat and made him throw back another glass of beer. He sat before the roaring fireplace of the pub, antlers from his many kills hanging above the flames, usually a sight of pride they did not ease his soul tonight. But despite his melancholic drinking he had noticed a group of unfamiliar men, travelers, hogging one table to themselves. They had come in whispering but after a few pints their whispers became loud enough for Gaston to overhear.

“I ain’t goin’ back there!” The man who spoke was as white as a sheet, holding a grubby hand to his stomach.

One of his friends turned to him, “But imagine how much money we could get with a kill that big.” Talk of hunting piqued Gaston’s interest.

“Like we could _kill_ it! It nearly ripped my intestines out! And it probably ate that girl we found!”

Gaston turned in his chair to get a better look at the men. Their clothes were ratty, hair a tangled mess and they were swaying in their seats from the effects of the alcohol. But the fear in their eyes was far too genuine. There was _something_ out in those woods, and apparently not only it attacked them but also a girl who was out in the woods… Gaston stood up to join them, lips curling into a smile.

.

When the Beast arrived at the dinning room Belle’s smile was full of relief, standing up she met him halfway. “I want to apologize again,” she explained, expression morphing from relieved to stricken. And while he knew it was awful he couldn’t help but like how worried she was. She really cared for him…

But he still assured her, “I’m fine.” He waited for her shoulders to relax before tilting his head to her. “Could I ask something of you?”

Her eyes glittered with curiosity and he took a moment to admire how large her eyes were, how warm the amber looked, matching her dark skin tone. “What do you need?”

“I’d _like_ to-to have a dance with you.”

He could practically taste her surprise, no need for the arched brows and parted lips. Belle looked him over as if she wasn’t completely sure this was _her_ Montague. “In the ballroom?” she clarified softly.

He nodded, self-doubt clogging his throat and making words stick to his tongue, so he only nodded a second time. And slowly, oh so slowly, a smile curved Belle’s lips and- _how could one person be so beautiful_?

“You want to dance with me?” The elated way in which she spoke did not slow down the Beast’s heart. He finally wrestled words out of his mouth, “I-I am not a very… _coordinated_ dancer. But I’d like to try. With you.” \

Her expression, warm and sincere, felt like an embrace. “Lucky for you I was raised by a socialite and know many a dance moves.” She held his hands in hers, so different yet so fitting. “Let’s dance tomorrow; we can make a whole evening out of it.”

The Beast had to swallow a large level of pride to ask Renard and Plumes to help get him ready for the evening. The fox and owl gushed over him, instructing him on how to groom his fur, help him find the perfect outfit. All the while telling him how _happy_ they were for him.

“She was worried for you last night, you know,” Renard told him while hunting through the walk in closet. “That’s why we went looking for you.”

The Beast examined his reflection in the mirror, something he hadn’t done in a long, long time. Even with his fur well maintained now he had no idea what that girl saw in him, however he wasn’t going to take back his invitation to dance. Instead he looked to Plumes who sat atop the mirror, “Is it bad that I was happy she was so worried for me?” The owl blinked at him. “That means you care what she thinks of you.”

Renard trotted out of the closet, “And that’s _never_ happened before! Not even when you were human!”

Plumes spoke while the Beast pulled on the outfit Renard had chosen. “Speaking of, tonight you must let your feelings for her known.” The intensity of his eyes reminded the Beast that the rose only had so many petals left.

Renard was nodding in agreement, “You can’t deny it. You care for the girl and tonight after the dance is a perfect time to tell her!”

“It’s time to break the curse,” Plumes added.

The Beast nodded, his chest swimming with feelings of anxiety, excitement, and something he didn’t think he would ever feel again…

.

Belle spun in front of the mirror once again, going through so many dresses, trying to find the right one. “This is silly,” she remarked when she found herself not overly fond of an eggshell blue number. “I’ve never cared so much over what dress I wear. That was my sisters’ job.”

Lapin and Chat sat on her bed and the two exchanged a knowing look before the rabbit spoke, “Maybe that’s because you never had anyone you wanted to impress.”

Belle’s cheeks turned hot and she ran her fingers through her hair, an awkward bubble of laughter bursting past her lips. “You think so?”

Chat purred, “I’m sure the master is getting himself worked up into a right proper tizzy as well. He really wants to impress you.”

Belle smiled softly at the words, her heart picking up its pace. She did another spin, this time the eggshell blue was painted over by a shining, golden yellow and she couldn’t help a soft gasp. The bodice was a simple design, but it had wrapped off-the-shoulder sleeves along with matching yellow opera gloves, the skirt itself decorated with flowing yellow lace. Her hair was pulled up into a bun with ebony locks trailing down her neck in beautiful waves. Instantly she knew this was _her_ dress.

The cat and rabbit cooed appreciatively, insisting she looked absolutely stunning and that the master wouldn’t be able to lift his chin off the floor. Belle giggled at their reaction, her stomach fluttering with butterflies, some anxious, some excited, and some trembling with a feeling she had feared she’d never know…

.

“Look at you,” Belle smirked. She had walked into the dining room to see the Beast in a blue suit, the tail coats and lining dashed in gold and a puffy white ascot hanging from his neck. She smiled at him, “Sir Montague you can clean up nice.”

He let out a breath of laughter and shrugged, “I have my moments. Renard and Plumes, standing behind him, loudly cleared their throats. “My servants were a big help.”

Belle stepped forward, holding the skirts of her dress in her hands and she spun a small circle before him. “Do you like the dress?” She didn’t mention it was the eighth dress she tried on.

“Of course,” he smiled at her. “ _You’re_ wearing it.”

Blushing pleasantly Belle accepted the seat he pulled out for her. The two usually sat across from each other but tonight they sat next to each other, elbows touching as they enjoyed the meal and company.

“Your fur is practically shining,” Belle told him, noticing the shine in his gray fur. The Beast looked to his paw, admiring the slick fur. “I haven’t fixed myself up in…in a long time,” he admitted.

“I haven’t dress up in a while either,” Belle replied, running her fingers across her finely done hair. “I always preferred reading.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yes, but doing this once in a while…it would be nice.”

“I agree,” she said, a spoonful of soup passed her ruby lips. “We could do it once a month.”

The fact that they had that kind of time, that he could spend years with her…spend the rest of his life with her…

 _The rose is wilting_.

The cold reminder brought his anxiety and self-doubt back, he swallowed against it. “Belle…” he tired to find the next words. “I wanted to…” He could find nothing. Belle guessed his next words, it was an incorrect guess. “You wanted to go ahead and dance?”

He wilted slightly. “Yes.”

Belle took his hand and led him to the ballroom, the room having been polished to perfection by the staff. The night sky was clear and to perfected by the staff. The night sky was clear and beautiful and the chandeliers lit, the light falling them and dazzling across their fur and skin. Renard and friends head slipped in after the two, making themselves comfortable at the piano. Meanwhile Belle pulled the Beast onto the heart of the dance floor. And Belle found it ironic that what felt like a life time ago, she had hated the thought of being in the same room with him. But now, now she pulled his paw forward to hold her waist, her hand lying on his shoulder. Their fingers interlocked and the Beast’s blue eyes trailed to their hands, something unsure played across his face. Belle quickly called out, “Chat! Play me something.”

A few seconds later a sweet tune filled the room and the Beast turned his attention back to his dancing partner. Belle’s voice was professional and serious, but the twinkle in her eyes ruined the effect. “We’ll start with something easy. We’ll form a box.” When his brow furrowed she continued, “Just follow my lead.” She pulled him forward, moved to the right, pushed him back, and then to the left. They repeated the steps a few more times and Belle saw realization spark in his eyes, their feet were forming a box. When they had stepped into rhythm he pulled his gaze away from the floor to her. She smiled at him, “You are a natural.” He returned her grin. “Now let’s try a spin.”

As the night went on the Beast showed a rusty but natural talent for dancing, mastering Belle’s lessons fairly easily. It made her wonder about the past he refused to share. But her curiosity was short-lived, instead her attention focused on the dance. She focused on the way his paws held her, large but gentle, in the way her hair flew across her shoulder, in the delighted shine in his twilight eyes and the wonderful way her heart wanted to burst. The ballroom swirled around her, stars and candles and marble. She felt warm, and energetic, and _happy_.

The dancing was coming to an end when suddenly the Beast grabbed her waist with both paws and lifted her into the air. Belle let out a shock of surprised laughter as he spun her through the air, but he only spun twice before tripping over his own feet, sending them both to the floor. The Beast had landed on his back; Belle sprawled on his chest and both laughing.

“Are you okay?” he chuckled, eyes glowing up at her.

She grinned, “I could ask you the same thing. Next time make sure you have solid footwork before trying that again.”

“Promise,” he smiled, sitting up.

Belle let out a breath, “Want to take a break? I’d like to walk out to the balcony.”

He nodded quickly and helped her to her feet. As they walked to the balcony Belle noticed the delighted and encouraging smiles of the staff.

The night air was cool and crisp, and Belle happily breathed it in. She stepped into the moonlight, leaning her arms on the stone railing as she gazed out at the gardens and the forests beyond.

She felt his eyes warm her back and she spoke without turning back, “A gentleman doesn’t stare, Montague.”

He snorted, “Why does everyone keep insisting I’m a gentleman?”

She looked over her shoulder, smile widening, “Because we all know there’s a heart of a gentleman under all that fur.”

He didn’t roll his eyes at that, instead looking at her with sincerity. “Come here, I have something for you.”

When Belle was before him he lifted her hand, palm up, and placed something smooth and cold in her hand. Belle’s eyes widened-it was her father’s locket. The Beast still held her hand, “I shouldn’t have kept it, I’m sorry…I was so awful to you.”

Belle met his eyes, “Something tells me someone was awful to you as well.” His eyes grew glassy.

“I think…” she breathed thoughtfully. “I think we both needed someone, someone who can understand us.” Her other hand covered his paw, “I’ve never met someone who understood me…not like you.”

His throat bobbed and his words were shaky, “I feel the same.”

Belle leaned her head against his chest, followed by the rest of her body. He wrapped a comforting arm around her and Belle spent a moment listening to his steady heartbeat that still felt like it was fluttering. For a moment Belle was completely content. Then she clenched her hand around the locket.

“Belle.” The Beast’s breath made her hair shift. “Are you happy here?”

“Of course I am,” she breathed.

However he heard the tinge of melancholy. He pulled back slightly to meet her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” she didn’t know how to say it without breaking his heart. “I want to see my family again.”

As expected his expression grew painful and his paw dropped from her back. “Oh.”

“Please don’t be upset,” she begged.

“I’m not.”

“I truly adore it here, I do, but I’m still reminded of them…and I can’t help but hate how I didn’t properly say goodbye.”

“Belle,” his soft, understanding tone silenced her. “Do you want to visit them?”

Her eyes nearly fell out of her skull, “You’d-you’d let me go?”

He stepped forward and his gaze was intense. “You stopped being my prisoner a long time ago. If you want to leave I will not stop you.” His eyes softened and he swallowed, “But I would be very happy if you came back.”

Belle took his hand in both of hers, “Just give me a week. Just one week to see them.”

His insecure expression made her heart ache. “Then you’ll come back?”

She hoped her smile showed her sincerity, “I promise.”

His smile was just as genuine, “Best get ready.”

She let out a delighted laugh and dashed off; she was out of earshot and didn’t hear his next whisper: “Farewell, Belle.”

.

The Beast and his servants sat in the room where he had first met Maurice, first bonded with Belle. Said girl had just left, giving them a swift goodbye and a renewed promise.

“Well I think it was very sweet to let her see her family,” Lapin said. She laid next to Renard, they along with Chat were sprawled before the small fire. Plumes, roosting on top of the chair, hooted. “We don’t have that kind of time! The rose will finish wilting any day now.”

Chat was determined to stay optimistic, “She’ll return soon, it’ll be fine.”

But then the Beast let out a sigh, “She won’t be coming back.”

Frightened eyes stared at him. “Why would you say that?” Renard demanded.

“Because she loves her family.”

Plumes had puffed up his feathers in anger, making him twice his size. “ _Then why did you let her go_?!”

The Beast’s chest twisted in agony, “Because I love _her_.”

.

Belle, accompanied by Philippe and Darling arrived home at daybreak. Dismounting from Philippe she walked out of the woods, her house in sight. Walking closer she saw a familiar shape out in the yard, crouching by a broken wagon wheel. Maurice stood up straight and went stock still when he spotted Belle.

Rising tears blurred her vision and she smiled. “Papa…” She broke into a run, “ _Papa_!”

Her embrace knocked him to the ground; tears streamed down their face as they kissed each other’s cheeks and sobbed how they had missed each other.

Nicholas’ voice suddenly spoke up, “Father, what’s-BELLE!”

A moment later Nicholas appeared by their side, wrapping his arms around his sister. A few seconds later Tristan, Susan, and Lucy joined them, and to Belle’s surprise they were just as happy to see her. Belle’s family pulled her into a large family hug, wet with tears and warm with laughter.

.

News in this town spread faster than wild fire in a dry forest so Belle had been home for only a few minutes when the news reached the pub where Gaston loitered. He was still with the group of men who had explained there was a giant wolfish monster stalking the forest and that the girl they had seen was clearly Belle. LeFou, who sat next to Gaston, believed they were making it up.

Hearing the girl was not only alive but back the gears in Gaston’s head started to turn.

“Boys,” he turned to LeFou and the gang. “Let’s go see what my future wife has to say about this monster.”

.

“You didn’t have to run away to prove a point, Belle,” Tristan was saying.

She sat at the table with her family, all enjoying a cup of warm tea. Her older brother’s words made Nicholas scowl at the man. “You were trying to make her marry a man she didn’t love!” To Tristan and the twins’ credit they did look guilty.

“I wanted to find Papa,” Belle explained.

Maurice looked to his daughter, “How did you escape Belle?” Her siblings’ interest instantly piqued, obviously their father had told them about the Beast.

Belle looked to her father. “He let me go.”

Jaws dropped to the table and Maurice looked at his daughter as if he didn’t believe her. “That horrible beast let you go?”

“He’s not horrible,” Belle insisted, just managing to not raise her voice. “He’s changed. He knew I missed you all and let me come home. He even gave me your locket back.” She decided to wait to tell them she would only be here for a week. Even if the Beast hadn’t asked her to come home she would still return to him. She loved her family but she also-

Nicholas interrupted her thoughts. “Belle…your bag is shaking.” They turned around to see Belle’s knap sack (she had taken it with her to carry small amounts of food and Maurice’s locket) shaking to and fro before suddenly a fluffy white head popped out. “Chaton!” Belle smiled.

The kitten returned her smile, “Belle!”

Her sisters shrieked when the kitten spoke but Belle had stood up and walked over to Chaton to pick her up, “You little stowaway.” She turned to her family, “Everyone, this is my friend Chaton.”

Maurice smiled at the kitten as she was placed on the table, “I remember you.”

Nicholas looked absolutely entranced by the talking cat while Tristan and the twins looked convinced they were dreaming. The kitten greeted all of them in turn before turning back to Belle. “Why did you leave Belle? I thought you liked us.”

Belle’s heart ached, “Of course I like you. But I missed my family.”

Chaton pouted, “Why didn’t you just bring your family to the castle?”

“With the beast?” Tristan scowled.

The kitten glared up at him, “He’s very nice now! And he loves Belle, he’d let you move in!”

Belle blushed, embarrassed by the kitten’s blunt words. But luckily a distraction came as the sound of Chaton’s rumbling stomach. “I’m hungry, is there anything to eat?”

The day passed quickly with Belle and Chaton telling Maurice and the others what castle life was like, though Maurice and Nicholas were the only ones to accept that there was just a castle in the woods filled with talking animals. While they talked Chaton showed obvious favoritism to Nicholas, sitting in his lap and purring as he rubbed her head. When they weren’t talking about how Belle’s time had been they had talked how her family had coped. Life had more or less stayed the same despite her absence, still having to work and still bored out of their minds. Susan mentioned how Gaston had been in a state of melancholy after she left and had even led a rescue party. Belle had rolled her eyes and said he had done it because he hated to lose-which was true. And to Belle’s relief no one tried to defend the man.

But say the devil’s name and he will appear. When night fell there was a knock on the door. While Belle and her sisters knitted, Nicholas played with Chaton, and Tristan tended the fire, Maurice opened the door. His words instantly sent Belle on edge: “What are you doing here?”

“I heard Belle had returned.” It was Gaston.

Belle stood up, fright making her skin chill. Her siblings stood up as well, Nicholas and the twins standing before her protectively and it eased Belle’s fear slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Chaton’s voice had grown scared, burrowing into Nicholas’ palm.

“It’s going to be fine,” Nicholas whispered to her. “Just stay quiet.”

Maurice was still talking to Gaston, blocking the door, “Where did you heart that?”

Belle could imagine the egotistical man waving his hand dismissively, “You know how gossip is in this town. Is it true?”

Maurice was silent for a few moments but ultimately decided he couldn’t hide his daughter forever. “Yes.”

“Excellent!” Gaston’s voice smiled. “May I see her?”

”Her opinion of you hasn’t changed,” Maurice snapped. Belle had to bite her lip to keep from laughing; she obviously got her attitude from her adopted father.

But Gaston wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “Not yet, but I’m here not to propose but to ask her some questions. I know of the _monster_ that had attacked her.”

Those words sent Belle past her siblings and her father, standing in front of Maurice and glaring up at the smug chiseled face of her worst enemy. “What are you talking about?”

His smile didn’t wane, “Belle, darling. Thank heavens you’re all right. I heard that you had been attacked by a ferocious beast.”

Her brow furrowed, “Who told you _that_?”

Gaston stepped to the side to see that behind him was a whole mob of townspeople; they were carrying torches and pitchforks and looked frightened and furious. In the front of the crowd was LeFou and…Belle’s heart dropped. The bandits that had attacked her were there, and by the leering looks they remembered her all too well. Belle took a step back, grabbing her father’s arm for courage. She turned her eyes back to Gaston, “Why are you listening to them?”

“We’ve all been listening to them,” Gaston waved his arm to indicate the mob, “We’ve seen the damage such a monster can do.” Gaston looked to one of the bandits and he lifted his shirt, across the flesh of his stomach were five long red welts, claw marks. Belle took a small moment to enjoy the satisfaction that the Beast had nearly ripped the disgusting pig’s guts out. But then she had to come back to reality and how, to all these people, and maybe even her family, this was a poor man who had nearly been killed by a savage monster.

Belle released her father’s arm and stepped forward, her eyes glared at the group of bandits, wishing she could set them ablaze. “The only monsters are only those bandits!” She pointed to the group of men. “They _attacked_ me in the woods, would’ve killed me or worse. Montague _saved_ me!”

Her words were meant with silence. And then Gaston curled his lip at her, “Montague?”

Belle looked up at him, holding her ground and raising her chin. “It’s what I call him. You’re nothing but a filthy liar, Gaston. He’s kind and gentle and my _friend_.”

He scowled at her and for a moment he looked as ugly as his personality. “If I didn’t know better Belle I’d think you had feelings for this _monster_.”

Belle bared her teeth, “He’s not the monster Gaston _you are_!” Her words got surprised murmurs from the crowd, Belle’s family staying silent.

Gaston stared at Belle with hate flaring in his eyes and she saw he had _finally_ got it through his thick skull that she would never be his. But what she forgot was Gaston’s mindset: if he can’t have Belle no one would.

He turned his back to her and addressed the mob. “It’s worse than I thought. Instead of killing her this beast has turned her against us! This creature kidnapped her own _father_ and she is _defending_ him! For all we know she had told him all about our village, she might be planning to help it come and kill us all!”

Gaston controlled the mob like a puppeteer, pulling their strings and turning their heads to share frightened words, widened their eyes and opened their ears to him. “But not if we kill him first!”

 _No_. The crowd erupted into bloodthirsty cheers. Gaston stalked down the steps of the house Belle ran after him, leaping on his back and crawling at his shirt. “Don’t you _dare_!” But when Gaston got over his surprise from her attack he easily peeled her off him and pushed her roughly back to her house, Maurice reached out and grabbed her before she fell to the ground.

Tristan and the twins followed after their father, Nicholas and Chaton no where in sight. “That was uncalled for, Gaston!” Tristan snarled at the man, Susan and Lucy checking on their sisters. Gaston placed his level gaze on Belle’s brother for a few seconds, but then he snarled right back. “You’re either with us or against us.”

And despite Belle’s growing fear she felt a deep love for Tristan and the twins when they protectively stepped in front of her, having finally see the horrible man Gaston was and taking their sister’s side. But her happiness was very shortly lived, Gaston flicking his wrist at the mob and several men stepped forward and grabbed the family, dragging them kicking and screaming to the barn.

“Don’t listen to him!” Belle begged of the people. “I know you’re scared but the Beast would never hurt any of you!” But her pleas fell on deaf ears and the family was tossed into the barn, using a log of wood to bar the doors from outside.

Belle had jumped up as soon as she was released and slammed her fists on the splintered wood of the door, even when she felt splinters dig into her flesh she didn’t stop pounding against the door, not until Maurice pulled her back.

“Belle, stop it,” he begged. “You can’t open the door that way.”

That fact brought her to tears; she slid down to her knees and covered her face with her hands, “It’s my fault! It’s all my fault!” _I’m so sorry_!

.

Chat’s fur was bristled. Chaton was playing hide and seek but her mother was in no mood to play along. She sat in the library with Renard, Plumes, and Lapin, all sprawled around the room and quiet. The master had vanished to the west wing and hadn’t returned.

The rose only had one petal left, and the servants were accepting the fact they would never be human again.

Renard’s voice was soft and sad, a tone he had never used before: “Maybe it would’ve been better if she had never come at all.”

Chat tried to think of something but any comfort would feel so empty. Plumes feathers were practically drooping and Lapin’s nose wiggled, looking around at the three animals as if they had the answer. She looked ready to hop out of the room when suddenly her long ears shot up, eyes moving to the window. “Someone’s coming.”

A moment later all their heads lifted, hearing the distant sound of people. “It couldn’t be…” Renard breathed, rushing to the window with the others on his tail.

“Is it her?” Chat asked, pressing her paws against the window glass.

The four animals’ jaws drop when they saw it was a mob, torches burning against the night sky and heading straight for the gate.

Renard snarled, “Intruders!”

“What do we do?” Lapin asked frightfully, “They’re going to storm the castle!”

Renard dropped to all fours, “Not while I’m still standing! Human or not this is our home and we’ll defend it!” He flexed his sharp claws and bared his teeth, “Let’s put these to good use.”

.

Belle and her family were trying to figure out if they could dig their way under the door when a familiar voice called out from the other side. “Belle! Father!”

“Nicholas!” they all cried out. In all the chaos Belle had forgotten he had vanished during the confrontation.

“I went upstairs to hide Chaton when Gaston arrived,” he explained from the other side of the door, he grunted as he started to remove the log. “Then I heard the shouting and thought it was better to stay hidden for a while.”

Chaton’s voice spoke up, “Good thing we did! Now we can get you!”

The log fell to the ground with a thud and a moment later the barn doors swung open, moonlight outlining Nicholas, Chaton riding on his shoulder. Belle was already pulling Darling to the door, pulling herself up on the mare and grabbing onto her mane. “I need to get to the Beast,” she told her family. “I need to warn him.”

“You can’t go alone!” Maurice told her. “I’ll go with you.”

Tristan stepped forward and grabbed Maurice’s shoulder, “Father you stay with Susan and Lucy, me and Nicholas will follow Belle on Philippe.” Maurice still looked unsure but Belle was done waiting. She _had_ to get back.

Kicking Darling the mare whinnied and darted to the forest, her brothers scrambling to mount onto Philippe and follow after her. As the dark woods swallowed Belle and Darling the girl made a deal with the heavens above. _Just let him be okay when I get there and I’ll tell him what I should’ve told him before I left._

.

Chat had run to the west wing to tell their master. He sat before the rose, blue eyes blank. “Pardon me, sir-”

He was already shaking his head, “Leave me in peace.”

“But, sir, the castle is under attack!” The rest of the staff had already gone to the first floor to prepare for the attack.

The Beast released a breath that was both sarcastic yet painful. “Of course it is…” He closed his eyes and looked to wilt right before the cat’s eyes. “Let them come. None of it matters anymore. Nothing matters anymore.”

Chat looked at him helplessly for a few moments before shaking her head and dashing back to the others. She found them blocking the front doors, the wood shaking on its hinges. She hurried downstairs and pressed her paws against an empty square of wood, vibrations running up her paws, “What’s going on!?”

“Then chopped down a tree and are trying to break down the door!” Abel told her, he and his pups pressing their shoulders against the wood. “Renard we can’t hold them back!”

“I know, I know!” The fox was looking around the room, “Okay! I have an idea!”

.

With one more hit the doors flew open, revealing the dim interior beyond. Gaston’s lips curled into a delicious grin. “Take whatever you want,” he told the mob. “But remember, the Beast is _mine_.”

“What about us?” the leader of the hunters glared at him as the group walked into the castle.

Gaston met his glare head on, “You really want to face the monster that nearly tore you in half.” He watched the torn look in the man’s eyes, on one hand he wanted the money he could get from killing such a creature, on the other hand there was the fear that said creature would finish the job. Gaston didn’t wait for an answer, instead heading up the stairs while the mob looked around the first room.

Then there was an inhuman shriek.

Out from the crooks and crannies and side rooms and ceiling came a legion of animals. The leader of the hunters was knocked down by a feral fox, an owl and several other birds flew overhead, clawing at the mob’s head. Even a rabbit bite LeFou’s ankle. Gaston cursed under his breath and dashed up the stairs, he had no interest in these animals. His prize was somewhere else in this castle and he was going to find it.

.

Darling was covered in sweat when she broke from the trees, arriving at the castle with its open gates. Belle sucked in a breath and urged the mare on, Philippe and her brothers following after. Belle dismounted Darling before the horse had completely come to a stop, running inside the castle’s open doors and stepped into chaos. The servants were making a mockery of the mob. She saw Chat and a few other felines of the castle, chasing down a few men. Abel and his pups nibbling on one mob member, not making him bleed but definitely scaring the daylights out of him. She also saw Renard clawing at the bandit the Beast had attacked.

“Wow,” was all her brothers could say when they reached their sister and saw the sight before them. Chaton saw her mother and cheered her and the other animals on, digging her tiny claws into Nicholas’ shoulder.

Belle turned to his brothers, “I need to find the Beast. You help here.”

“But Belle-“Tristan began but was interrupted by his younger brother.

“You be careful,” Nicholas ordered, “Gaston is probably looking for him as well”

Belle smiled at them, “This is me we’re talking about. I can handle anything.” She whirled around and dashed into the madness. She heard her name being called out happily, Renard having pinned the bandit down and smiling at her with adoration and relief. She smiled back but didn’t stop, almost at the stairs a rough hand dug into her shoulder. Belle was turned around to stare into the snarling face of one of the other bandits, he held her arms in a vise-like grip and she remembered him as the bandit who had tried to lift up her dress. There were bite marks across his arms and bleeding cuts on his head.

“You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart!”

No fear iced Belle’s veins, instead a furious fire set her blood ablaze and she knew she had no time for this piece of scum. So she kicked him in his nether regions.

“Do not call me sweetheart,” she said simply as he fell to the ground, moaning in pain and cradling himself. Belle hurried up the stairs and made her way to the west wing, vaguely realizing she had never been to the room. But now was not the time for idle curiosity now was the time to punch Gaston in his perfect, smug face. Something someone should’ve done a long time ago.

.

The Beast wished he could be left in peace, when Chat had first come into the room his stupid heart had fluttered with hope that maybe Belle had come back. Maybe he could finally tell her how he felt.

When heavy footsteps reached his ears he forced his head up to see a strange man standing there. Slick black hair and a face like a Greek statue he was someone he imagined any woman would love to be with. And he was aiming an arrow to the Beast’s heart.

He turned his back to the stranger. _Go ahead, it’s already broken_. But despite his melancholy when the arrow sliced across his back he still reared up and screeched in pain. He had hardly gone quiet when the man slammed into the Beast, knocking them into the glass that shattered from the impact. He rolled down across the slick shingles of the room, landing on a lower balcony, the man landing on his feet before him. Breathing through the pain licking down his spine the Beast tried to stand up-but then wondered what was the point? It was all over.

The man kicked him in the ribs and the Beast flinched. The stranger’s taunting voice spoke above him, “Get up and fight!” Another kick and he let out a mocking laugh. “What’s the matter then, _Beast_? Too kind and gentle to fight back?”

The Beast only closed his eyes and waited for the man to grow bored and once more fire his arrow, he hoped his servants were okay, he hoped they could find a better life even with the curse. He hoped-

“ _STOP_!”

The Beast’s eyes flew open and he looked beyond the man’s shoulder to the broken glass of his room…and there she was. Belle’s hair was loose and flowing across her shoulders, her eyes were wide with fright and anger and she looked ready to jump down after them. And she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

The stranger followed his gaze to see Belle; he then scowled and turned back to the Beast, a new arrow notched. But this time the Beast slammed his foot into the man’s stomach, knocking him across the balcony and hitting the wall. The man pulled himself back to his feet, eyes blazing with blood lust.

“Don’t you dare hurt him, Gaston!” Belle screamed out, jumping past the broken glass and clumsily sliding down the shingles, she knocked into Gaston and the man stumbled, his bow falling out of his hands. She pulled away from him and started to hurry to the Beast but Gaston grabbed her before she could, pressing her back against his chest and pulling out a knife.

The Beast snarled and moved forward only to stop in his tracks when he turned the knife on Belle, the sharp edge pressed against her neck. “Don’t move,” Gaston ordered, looking crazed.

The Beast’s heart had stopped but Belle didn’t look nearly as frightened. “You coward,” she growled.

Gaston laughed, not moving the knife. “Come now, Belle. Do you honestly want to be with _that_ when you could be with me?”

Belle looked at him with disgust, “He’s not holding a knife to my throat.”

But Gaston had turned his attention to the Beast. “What gave you the right to think you could have her all to yourself?”

“Let her go,” the Beast begged. “This is between you and me. Let her go _please_.”

“Between you and me?” he echoed, “Don’t be ridiculous. This is between me and Belle and her choice.” He looked down at the girl and his voice changed, sounding soft and sincere. “This is your last chance, my dearest. Choose me and live, choose him and die.” Belle slowly turned her heard to give Gaston her iciest looks and for a moment that felt to the Beast like eternity she was silent. Then she spoke: “I’ve chosen the third choice.”

And then before Gaston could react she shot her head back, knocking her head into his face and breaking his nose, the knife moved away from her neck and Belle pushed out of his grip. But as she did so the knife sliced across her cheek, ripping over the flesh and making blood stream down her face. Belle cried out in pain and the Beast surged forward, grabbing Gaston by his shirt and slamming him back into the wall, knocking him unconscious. He dropped the man to the stone floor and quickly hurried to Belle, holding her face in his paws to examine her wound.

“Are you alright?” he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Belle smiled through the tears that had started to fall, “Because I’m _happy_! You’re _okay_!” He smiled at her, the unbearable ache subsiding in his chest and he pressed their temples together. “I am now that you’re here.”

They took a few moments collecting their breath and letting their heartbeats slow down before Belle spoke. “Are you sure?”

He blinked and pulled his head back to look at her. Belle ran her finger over the dried blood on her cheek, the wound having stopped. “I think this’ll scar. I won’t have the ‘flawless’ beauty other men had always complimented.”

“That’s not the beauty I care about,” the Beast’s voice was soft. “I worry about the beauty inside you, and it’s still shining. You could be covered in scars and you’d be absolutely angelic in my eyes.”

Her smile only widened and she giggled breathlessly, “Don’t be such a sap.”

He wanted to join in with her laughter but a second after she had finished speaking he felt a jagged bolt of pain through the small of his back. He howled in agony and Belle let out a scream, Gaston had risen and stabbed him when they were distracted. The Beast violently whirled around, dislodging the man who hit the railing of the balcony, bloody dagger in hand. He lifted himself to his feet, eyes inhuman, burning with lust for Belle and jealously for the Beast and hate for them both. But before he could take a step forward Belle ran at him, “ _Don’t touch him_!” She pushed him, and the man was sent over the edge flailing and screaming as he fell into the dark.

The Beast dropped to his knees and then fell down. His vision was starting to turn black and his ears were growing numb. He vaguely heard Belle call his name; he also heard what sounded like Renard, Chat, and Plumes. They all sounded so scared.

Belle appeared in his sight, her tears streaming as she pulled his head onto her lap. “Beast,” she sobbed, “Keep your eyes open! Look at me!”

He smiled at her. “I’m fine,” his voice was so quiet.

“No you are not you’re hurt! We need to find something to stop the bleeding!”

He slowly shook his head, “No…it’s too late.”

She only cried harder, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Beast. This is all my fault! If I had never left they would have never known about you.”

He reached his paw out and his took it, her fingers were trembling. “It’s okay. I’m happy…I got to see you again…one last time.”

“Don’t you dare talk like that,” she said hotly, “You’re going to be just fine. We’ll get you fixed up and then we can spend the rest of our lives here, dancing and playing and reading.”

His eyelids lowered, “That would’ve been paradise.”

“Beast I _order_ you to live,” Belle’s angry voice wobbled. “If you die I’ll die too, and then I’ll follow wherever you go.” Her voice broke and her next sentence was more of a sob than words, “I’ll go wherever you are sent _but I will not abandon you_.”

How had he gotten so lucky? How had he met a woman who cared for him so deeply? That thought reminded him that there was one more very important thing he hadn’t told Belle. But he had to be careful about it.

“This is how it looks.”

Through her tears her brow furrowed.

“You-you always said how Romeo and Juliet were so in love. No, this is what a it looks like when someone dies for their true love.”

Her eyes widened the amber glassy. He breathed out his next words, “I love you, Belle.” She swallowed and so many emotions came across her face, “I love you, too.” And _oh_ , how was it possible simple words could be so sweet?

He closed his eyes and Belle shook him, “Don’t you dare! Look at me, look at me! _Open your eyes_!"

Belle couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she could only feel. Feel pain tearing her heart into a thousand pieces, feeling the hot tears slid down her cheeks and across the caked blood. Felt her entire body shaking as she felt into his chest, burying her head into the fur of his neck. “Don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me! Not now, not after they had just confessed to each other. It wasn’t fair, _it wasn’t fair_!

Unbeknownst to anyone-the last petal fell.

.

Nicholas cheekily waved goodbye to the fleeing mob, all covered in bite marks. He and Tristan stood with the cheering animals, proud of themselves for defending their turf and apparently hadn’t noticed the two men still in the castle.

Chaton was purring in her ear. “We did it!” she exclaimed even though she and the two brothers mainly stood awkwardly by while the other animals sent the mob running. Nicholas turned to look at the staircase where Belle had vanished, she hadn’t returned yet and he was starting to get worried, “Maybe we should go check-” he stopped mid-sentence when a golden glitter shone at the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see Chaton being enveloped by a golden light. “CHATON!” he gasped before falling to the ground. The golden light faded and instead of Chaton there was a small girl in a white dress, blue eyes wide and silvery blond hair tangled. She sat up on his chest, eyes looking at her now human hands then slowly turned her head to look at Nicholas. She broke into a wide grin as around her the rest of the animals were enveloped by golden light.

.

A sudden light shown beyond Belle’s closed eyes, her eyes popped opened and she let out a cry of surprise, crawling back a few paces as the Beast was encircled in a glowing light. Renard, Chat, and Plumes looked thunderstruck.

In the circle of golden light Belle could make out the silhouette of the Beast, it grew smaller, leaner, no longer wolf like and her lips parted in awe. The golden light fell away and instead of the Beast there was a man, his hair a fair shade as well as his skin, he slowly pulled himself up and to his feet, staggering as he did so. Belle watched, transfixed as he examined his body, his legs and now healed torso, his hands. And then he whirled around so suddenly he nearly tripped.

Belle was suddenly starting into twilight eyes. She breathed out a word, “Montague?”

He smiled, “ _Belle_ …”

She rose onto shaking legs, still unsure she was truly seeing what she was seeing. He walked to her, grabbing her hands, interlocking their fingers and familiar blue eyes shone down at her with love. And then she was positive.

Belle released a shaking breath and smiled at him, “It’s _you_. You’re _okay_!” She suddenly held his face between her hands and pulled him to her lips, he instantly returned the kiss, his warm hands caging her. Fresh tears, joyful tears, fell down Belle’s lips. When they pulled away he whispered, “You broke the curse. You saved me.”

“Just like you saved _me_.”

They pulled each other into an embrace, cheeks aching from smiling “I love you,” she declared happily.

His voice was softer but no less happy. “I love you too, my Capulet.”

Sudden whoops of excitement brought their attention to Renard and the others, only to see the fox, cat, and owl had vanished. In their place was a ginger young man, an older lady with silvery blond hair, and a bespectacled man with a heavy set.

Human Renard ran to them, “ _I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT_!” He pulled them into a tight hug that Chat and Plumes quickly joined in. Belle laughed along with them, happy and in awe and in _love_.

She had never needed to go far away to have the adventure she always read about.

.

Morning light shined on the ballroom, the now human servants and Belle’s family surrounding she and the prince as they dance and spun to the happy music, he sun casting gold, purple, and red light over the ballroom. Renard had an arm around Lapin while he and Plumes argued over who had said Belle would break the curse. Chat and Chaton sitting at the piano while the older woman play an elegant and loving song. As they did so she once again brought up the cut on her cheek, it was slowly becoming a scar.

“I think it gives you character,” he smiled. “It’s a testament to your bravery.”

She smiled at him, glad to know that the one man whose opinion mattered to her didn’t care if she her skin was flawless or not. But her lips turned up into a thoughtful frown as she looked up at her prince.

He blinked, slightly concerned. “What is it?”

“Would you ever consider growing a beard?”


End file.
